


When Refusing to Lose, You’ll Win Eventually

by Starscream10203



Series: When Refusing to Lose [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Other, Slavery, Spanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2020-05-16 17:36:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 49,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19322917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starscream10203/pseuds/Starscream10203
Summary: When Prowl escaped from a life of slavery early on, he’d hoped to lead a simple existence. He never dreamed he’d end up as the Autobot SIC, serving under Optimus Prime. He’d never expected to find love. He should really stop setting the bar so low.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Long time reader of Transformers fanfiction, first time writer. I hope you all enjoy! Please feel free to comment and share your thoughts! Thanks and enjoy!

Prowl ran as fast as he could, vents flared in an effort to cool his overheated frame. He pumped his arms and pushed himself all the harder when he heard the shouting behind him getting closer. Turning the corner sharply, he found himself in the residence district of the city docks. Tucking his wings down tight, he began to pass underneath lit windows, searching for an empty domicile. 

Pain caused him to clench his dentae. Only a day or so into his second frame, it was expected that he would be wobbly and sore. It would have been nice if his master would have bothered to have his other injuries repaired, but that would have cost him more. His back was crossed with cuts from the whip, and his left hand still wouldn’t move properly. His helm ached so badly he could hardly see at times. 

They’d expected the amnesia from his frame upgrade to keep him down longer, but thanks to the new processors they installed into him, he burned through the medicine quicker. His master’s security had been lax and he’d taken his chance, slipping away from the shady medics building and into the late morning air. He’d hoped he’d made it far enough away, but the mechs hot on his heels suggested otherwise.

Finally, he came up on a dark residence. He almost couldn’t believe his luck when he realized that the front window was pushed up slightly. Moving quickly, he shoved it higher and tumbled inside. Turning around, he slid the window closed again. Stumbling, he made his way further into the room. He had to hide from sight. Coughing and holding his damaged hand to his front, he walked into the kitchen, and nearly sobbed at the sight of the emerging dispenser.

*****

Orion Pax walked quickly towards the residence district, excited. In his subspace sat just over fifteen thousand credits. Enough to get him into the university of Iacon. He was finally going to get to live his dream. No more strut breaking work down at the docks, he was going to enroll tomorrow. Maybe he could work for the data caste, or even something more physical. The enforcers were always looking for graduates. 

It was far later than he normally went home. Dion had taken him out for drinks to celebrate and he’d stayed longer than he’d planned to. Now, a bit tipsy and very tired, he made his way home. His domicile was small, but it fit him perfectly. Stumbling up to his front door, he paused. The window was closed. 

Ever since he’d moved in, the cooling system had given him problems in the hotter cycles. To remedy this problem, he’d opened his front window a small bit every day, allowing the space to circulate. He always did this, it was the first thing he did when he came out of recharge each day. Tonight, it was closed. 

Creeping closer, he noticed a small smear across the bottom of the frame. He rubbed it with his digits. Energon. Someone was in his home. Someone was hurt. He came back to the door and typed his entry code in, steps careful and as quiet as he could make them. It was still in the room, and everything was dark. He moved into his living room, snatching up a heavy piece of piping from underneath his couch. It never hurt to be prepared after all. 

Hefting the pipe up over his shoulder, he began searching around his home. He didn’t have to look long. Laying in a puddle of spilled energon, a black and white youngling was splayed out. His doorwings were towards him, but his completely limp form suggested he was out cold. One of the wings were bent at an awkward angle. It looked painful. 

The youngling lurched then, startling Orion. Groaning, he rolled over and met his optics. The younglings own optics widened, and Orion suddenly realized what he must look like. He set the pipe down.

*****

Prowl woke suddenly, not having realized he’d been recharging. He felt wet and sticky, and he glanced down to see energon all around him. Alright. Perhaps not recharge, but unconsciousness. His dorrwings registered movement. Groaning, he turned and looked behind him. He locked optics with a giant. 

The mech was huge compared to him, a weapon of some sort over his shoulder. Prowl nearly emptied his primary waste tank then and there. Suddenly, the mech moved towards him, setting down the weapon. Now that he was closer, he could see it was a piece of piping. He flinched as one large servo came down to gently stroke his helm. 

As terrified as he was, the touch to his overheated forehead felt nice, and he let out a sob as he waited for it to squeeze. The mech lifted him to his chassis, cradling his shaking form. Tears flowed down Prowl’s face, and he did the only thing he could think of. He begged.

“Please, Sir. Please don’t hurt me. I’m sorry.”

He broke off into a coughing fit. He tasted energon. The mech’s voice rumbled throughout him, sending Prowl’s one working doorwing quivering. 

“It’s alright, little one,” the mech said, “I won’t hurt you. I’m taking you to a friend of mine. He’s a doctor. You’re safe.”

Orion moved to lift Prowl up, when loud banging on the front door cut through the home. Shouts demanding the door be opened filtered through, and when Orion pinged his comms, he realized they were enforcers. Perfect, he thought, they can help me. He was stopped when the youngling clutched at his front grill.

“Please, no! They’ll kill me!” he begged.

Then the door was kicked in.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the comments! I’m glad everyone is liking it so far. Here’s the next chapter!

The enforcers set on them immediately, or rather, they set on Prowl. Bypassing Orion completely, two of the mechs stepped forward and snatched the youngling up by his arms. Prowl cried out as his arm was twisted harshly only to have all of the air by pushed out of his vents as a fist slamming into his midsection. Gasping, he slumped.

Orion jumped at the strike and went to take a step forward, only to be stopped by the lead enforcers servo. 

“Don’t worry, Sir. It’s all deserved, believe me,” he said.

“Deserved? But, he’s just a youngling,” Orion said. The enforcer shrugged, watching as Prowl finally got his breath back and began to struggle with the officers.

“Eh. He’s a runaway slave. His master has decided that he’s been too much trouble and we’ve been ordered to terminate him back at the station. Thing is, the little fragger is smart, and he’s good at slipping away. He’s had us after him for the past three cycles.”

Orion was horrified. 

“Terminate him? But he’s just a youngling!” The enforcer turned to him with a look of boredom.

“Young mech. He’s a slave. He’s property. When the owner is tired of it, they can do what they want.”

Orion looked on in horror as the enforcer approached the struggling pair, a set of cuffs slipping out of his subspace. Thinking quickly, he did the only thing he could think of.

“How much?!” he blurted out. 

Everyone paused. The only movement came from the youngling, who was heaving his chest plates trying to take in air. The enforcer turned back to him.

“What?” he asked.

Orion stalled. “You heard me. How much? For the youngling.”

Barking a laugh the mech said, “You don’t have enough.”

“I’ve been saving. I’m a dock worker, and… I’ve been needing some help with my work. I was going to the market tomorrow.” 

A lie, but they didn’t need to know that. The mech didn’t look convinced.

“Then you can go to the market tomorrow and get a fully grown mech for your needs.”

“But…” Orion thought hard, “I could train up a youngling better. It’d be more of an investment.”

The youngling was still now, hanging limply in the two officers hold. Orion wondered if he was offline already. The enforcer laughed, smiling back at Orion.

“All right, kid. Twenty thousand.”

Orion’s legs just about gave out. Thinking back to what the mech had said, he answered.

“Ten. He’s injured.”

“Eighteen. It’s not going to take that much to get him functional again.”

“You said he’s got a problem with running? I’ll have to… train… him.” Orion felt sick speaking like this, but he could think of no other way to convince the mech. With no more choice, he pulled out the big guns.

“I’ll give you fifteen thousand credits right now if you sign over his ownership to me here and now. I have them in my subspace.”

The mech thought on it for so long that Orion was certain he wouldn’t take it. Suddenly, he received a ping across his comms, offering a document. 

“Very well. That’ll compensate my mecha for their work.”

He signaled the two enforcers with him, and they released the youngling, who dropped to the floor like a sack of spare parts. Definitely unconscious then. They left Orion’s home grumbling as he paid the head mech and signed the data pad he was given. The mech gave him a nasty smile, wishing him a good night and that he enjoy his new purchase. It made Orion feel sick.

Then he was alone with the unconscious youngling in his living room, and all of his savings along with it.


	3. Chapter 3

Orion drove as quickly as he dared, praying to Primus that the bleeding youngling in his cab didn’t offline before he could make it to Ratchet. He’d met Ratchet a few times, him having been a mutual friend through Ironhide. Orion knew he’d be willing to help if his little clinic in the Dead End was any indication.

He pushed his engine just a little harder when the youngling stirred, moaning quietly in pain. He breathed a sigh of relief when the clinic came into sight. It was late, but the lights were still on. Transforming gently, he cradled the little mech close to his chassis, and shouldered into the squat building. He had barely managed to look around the small waiting room when Ratchet came into the room. The medic took one look at Orion before his gaze fell to the mechling in his arms.

“Come with me.”

Orion rushed after him, depositing the youngling on the berth when Ratchet pointed to it. He watched as Ratchet began to attach wires and cables all over his little frame. Once he’d been settled, Ratchet shooed Orion out of the room, claiming he needed quiet and privacy. Orion found himself standing in front of the closed door, and flinched when the overhead surgery sign snapped on. 

He shuffled tiredly back towards the waiting room and sat heavily in the straight backed chair. He squinted as light began to stream through the windows, and checked his chronometer. He was startled to find it was early morning already. Glancing back down the hallway, the red light from the surgery sign glowed on the floor. It seemed he was in for a long wait. He commend Dion to explain, hoping his friend would cover for him at work once he’d explained. 

*****

Orion was slumped awkwardly in the chair, having fallen into recharge a few jour after speaking with Dion. His friend had been understandably upset and worried, but once he’d finished telling his story, Dion had agreed to taking the next three shifts for him. Then it’d be back to work he supposed. With his new slave. 

Just the thought made him feel sick to his tanks. The fact that he’d just purchased a living mechanism, a youngling no less, felt wrong to him. He was now legally able to do with him as he pleased. This included interface. He knew. The data pad he’d signed for the enforcer had a section on the laws of things he could and couldn't do. There was hardly anything he couldn’t do.

 

The thought alone made him sick. Sick of the world he existed in. Sick of himself for going along with it. But what other choice had he really had? Let the youngling be offline? Sure, he would have been able to go to school, but he would have never been able to forgive himself for abandoning someone who been in such desperate need of his help.

The door that had been hiding Ratchet and the youngling opened suddenly. Ratchet approached him slowly, wiping his servos down of decontamination fluid. He stood and followed when Ratchet motioned with his helm for him. They ended up in a tiny office space in the back of the building. Datapads and spare parts littered the shelves and surrounding areas, but the desk was completely clear. Ratchet seated himself behind the desk, and Orion sat across from him once he’d moved a crate of spare optics out of the chair. He tried to ignore the body parts and focus on the medic. Ratchet looked grim as he contemplated Orion before speaking.

“It’s bad, Orion.”

“How bad, Ratchet? I need to know how to help him,” Orion said.

Ratchet looked uncertain for a beat before responding. 

“Look, Orion, this younglings injuries were far more extensive than I’d expected. There are some mecha I know who might be willing to take him in. Study him…”

“Absolutely not! Ratchet, he’s been hurt. He needs a normal younglinghood. Don’t you think he deserves that?” he asked.

“Of course I do, Orion. But it’s not that simple. The facts simply are that he will never be normal,” Ratchet said.

“Explain,” Orion said. Ratchet sighed heavily, and pulled out a datapad from his subspace. He slid it across to Orion, and powered it up. It showed a processor scan.

“You see this here?” Ratchet pointed to a section towards the front of the processor, “This is that younglings processor. A normal one, doesn’t have these added components. I looked into these, and they’re a full logic center and situation simulator. They’re directly wired into his processor.”

Orion looked over the readings. He had a feeling he knew what this meant, but he wanted to be sure. “What does all this mean? I thought these types of upgrades were illegal.”

“Highly. These sort of upgrades would kill an adult mech. It’s a fragging miracle he’s even alive, let alone able to function. This would no doubt cause major coding issues. He probably crashes often. And this is just the main issue. He had plenty of injuries. He’s just been upgraded into his second frame. As in, within a few jour ago. He should definitely not be up and about. His back has been beaten pretty badly, and one of his sensor wings was dislocated. He’s got two broken digits and and his knee joint has been misaligned. Overall, he’s a mess, and I doubt he’s in a good place mentally.”

Orion was stunned by the massive list of repairs. He sat back, taking it in. This poor youngling. Leaning back forward, he asked,

“What do we do? This youngling has been tortured. And now I legally own him!”

“Well, I’ll help you, but it won’t be easy.”

“I don’t care about easy. I just want him to be safe.”

“Then let’s look at our options.”


	4. Chapter 4

Prowl woke slowly, his entire frame heavy. He lay there for a moment, keeping his optics offline. He could smell the antiseptic of a medbay, and he was freezing. He couldn’t remember much, but one phrase remained in his processor. How much? Considering he wasn’t offline, the strange mech whose home he’d broken into had purchased him. 

Prowl flexed his arm and leg pistons. He felt good. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d felt so pain free. In fact, he was numb for the most part, and he realized that they must have used a pain chip. He accessed his diagnostics, and was surprised to see the amount of repairs that showed.

He tried to think back in an attempt to remember what had happened. It was fragmented at best. He recalled the mech saying he would purchase him. He remembered being gently rocked and looking at the interior ceiling of a mechs cab. Feeling hands working on him, fixing his injuries. Hearing softly spoken words between two mechs, but not being able to figure out what was being said. It was all very disorienting.

Finally, he opened his optics.

The room was white, but not in an unpleasant way. The lights had been dimmed, and he assumed it was the off cycle. The room didn’t seem harsh or dangerous, in fact it seemed to have a calming effect on him. He didn’t trust it. 

Cautiously, he turned his head to look at the rest of the room. A tray sat to the side of him, a few loose tools on it. Nothing sharp. A pity. His head snapped towards the door when he heard pedesteps. Offlining his optics, he lay still, waiting for whoever was approaching to enter the room. He forced himself to remain lax, but was surprised when the pedesteps passed the room. They weren’t watching him. He couldn’t believe his luck. 

Onlining his optics again, he began to sit up. Mesh bandages restricted his movement, and he realized his doorwings had been wrapped as well. That explained why he couldn’t get a good read on the room. He grabbed at the rails on either side of him, trying to pull himself up the rest of the way. He nearly screamed when a large servo placed itself on top of one of his. 

Gasping, he turned to face the mech who’s home he’d broken into. The mech’s optics were dim and flickering, and Prowl realized that the mech hadjuts come out of recharge. He was seated a bit behind his line of sight from the berth, and appeared to have been there for a while. 

“Hello, little one. How are you feeling? Are you in any pain? I can call Ratchet.”

Prowl jerked, and was surprised when the mech let him go without any fuss. He didn’t know who this Ratchet was, but he didn’t want to find out. The mech continued speaking.

“My designation is Orion Pax. What should I call you little one?”

He leaned in towards Prowl, obviously expecting an answer. Prowl was done with obeying orders blindly, though. When he’d run the first time, he knew that he’d rather offline himself before he went back to his old master. He would be a servant no longer, even if it killed him. 

He decided he couldn’t get much deeper than he already was. The mech’s faceplates were close as he listened for Prowl’s answer to his questions. Prowl moved quickly to avoid thinking of what he was about to do. Once the mech was close enough, Prowl lunged.

His dents were small, but they were sharp. He bit down hard on the mech’s nasal ridge, clenching his jaw when the mech let out a yelp of pain. It turned into a scream as he tried to pull back and was stopped by the bite. Warm energon flooded into his mouth, and Prowl nearly swallowed it. Something wrenched and he finally released his hold, the mech’s servos coming up to clutch at his face as he fell back. 

Prowl moved quickly, scrambling off the berth and falling hard on his side. He refused to let it slow him, and he thrust himself forward towards the door. Surprisingly, it opened for him as he approached. Glancing down one side of the empty hall, he turned and saw the exit to the building. He began to run, spurred on even harder when a red and white mech came out of one of the side rooms and began to chase him. 

The mech must have had access to the security systems, because as he came up to the exit doors, the building locked down. He didn’t have time to panic, because the next thing he knew strong white arms were wrapping around his middle and lifting him up. 

He tried to bite, flailing his arms around and kicking. He was fairly certain he’d kicked the mech in his groin plating when he heard the mech grunt, but otherwise he was well and truly trapped. He was marched back into the small examination room where he’d woken up, and placed down on the floor. The mech- Orion Pax, sat on the berth he’d been in, holding his face. Energon dropped from between his digits. 

He heard the click of the lock engage, and he knew he was well and truly trapped. He slumped down, curling in on himself and waited for the punishment to begin. Instead, the red and white mech stepped over him and rushed to his friend's side. 

“Orion, what happened to your face?!”

“It’s fine, Ratchet,” the mech assured, “I shouldn’t have grabbed at him. I knew better-”

“Stop talking, you’re going to make it worse. Let me see.”

Prowl crawled to the door, but it stayed firmly shut. His optics never leaving the two mechs across the room, he slid across the floor to huddle into the corner. His punishment would come. Now that they had him, they could afford to let him sit and wait. Wrapping his arms around his knees, tears began to slip down his face. He would never get away. 

And so, he waited for the two mecha to turn their attention to him. He prayed it would come quickly, and yet dreaded it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still chugging along! Thank you to everyone who’s been leaving kudos and comments! They really make my day to see and know that y’all are enjoying my work! If you guys see typos or errors, please feel free to let me know. This isn’t beta’d so its just little old me! Now back to the story! :)

Prowl pressed his face into the corner and curled up tightly as he waited for the two adult mechs to remember him. The red and white mech, Ratchet he’d heard him being called, was a medic. He wondered if this mech had been the one who’d repaired him. He doubted he’d get such gentle treatment this time around. He jumped when the medic spoke.

“I’ve got to weld it. It’s going to scar, but it shouldn’t be a very large one,” he said. The blue and red mech face was stained with dried energon, and clutched a soiled cleaning cloth, which he had been using to slow the bleeding. 

“That’s fine, Ratchet. I know that with you doing it it will be a quality repair.”

Ratchet paused, looking around the room as he retrieved his welder.

“Where’s that youngling?” he wondered.

Orion nodded his helm in the direction of the corner. “He’s hiding over there,” he murmured. He knew his attempt at subtly hadn’t worked when he saw the tense wings press closer down against the younglings back.

Ratchet let loose a burst of annoyed static. “A good hiding is what he needs, that’s for sure,” he said.

“No, Ratchet. You know that’s not true.”

“Orion, he nearly took off your nasal ridge.”

“Because I frightened him. You yourself told me that his injuries suggested he’d been through a great deal. I shouldn’t have startled him the way I had.”

Ratchet sighed, looking to where Orion had indicated. The little one had all but grafted himself into the corner, his back to them. It didn’t help that he was left staring at the mesh bandages. He knew just how badly the youngling had been hurt. You didn’t get those kinds of injuries through accidents. Someone had made it their mission to make that little one suffer. Shaking his helm, he turned back to Orion and continued his work. His friend’s face scrunched up in pain as he welded and he rolled his optics. Such a sparkling when it came to medical procedures this one.

Once he’d finished, he set his tools aside for cleaning and handed Orion a cube of energon. 

“I’m fine, Ratchet. I just ate not long ago,” Orion said.

“I know. It’s not for you,” he gave the youngling a pointed look. Orion nodded, a determined look crossing his face. Ratchet turned to hide a smile at how ridiculous he looked with such a serious expression and bandages covering his nasal ridge.

Orion approached slowly, taking note of the fact that the youngling had gone still. He stopped a bit away, not wanting to make the other feel trapped. 

“Hello,” he said, ignoring the harsh flinch, “I’m afraid we got off on the wrong pede, didn’t we?”

He was met with a wet sounding sniffle and then silence.

“Shall we try again? My designation is Orion Pax. May I ask what yours is?”

Nothing. 

He sighed heavily, and sat down on the floor. Might as well get comfortable. It seemed that this would take a while. 

“I know you’re scared. I promise you don’t have to be, but I understand why you are. I’m not sure what all you remember from when we met. I found you in my housing unit. You were badly hurt. Do you remember that?”

His spark jumped when the youngling finally turned his way, inching around until he was half exposed. His newly repaired optic was flickering. The poor thing was probably so tired. He was looked at for a long moment, before finally the youngling nodded. 

“Good,” he said, encouraging, “Do you remember anything else?”

Another nod.

“And what’s that?”

The youngling glanced down, playing with his newly repaired digits. When he looked back up, Orion was shocked at the pure hate radiating from the glare the youngling sent his way. He spoke, but Orion couldn't understand what he said. He asked again. This time, he heard him loud and clear.

“You’re my master now.”

Orion floundered for a moment, before catching himself. 

“Well, no. I-”

“You bought me, no? You bought my ownership documents?”

“Uh, yes, I did. But-”

“So you are my new master.”

Orion puffed out an exvent, his armor slicking down against his frame in shame. He’d been trying really hard to forget that little fact. Thankfully, Ratchet chose then to save him from further suffering. Coming to stand behind him, he spoke to the youngling.

“You are correct, little one. Orion purchased your ownership documents, and is now in charge of your care.”

Perhaps he wasn’t there to save him then. 

“However,” Ratchet continued, “You won’t find a better mech. He didn’t purchase you to cause you further pain, little one. He did it to save you. I believe you are a very intelligent youngling. Anyone who could have escaped from your situation would have to be, and I’m assuming you did it without help, which is even more impressive. So, I’m going to be very straightforward with you. They planned to offline you. Your last master decided that you were apparently ‘too much trouble’. So when I say Orion saved you, he quite literally saved your life. I suggest you thank him by not biting anything else on him, if you would. ” And with that, he turned back to cleaning his tools.

Orion mouth hung open. He’d fully planned on keeping that little detail from the youngling, at least until he was older. The youngling seemed equally shocked, but as quickly as his face had shown surprise, he’d forced back a blank expression. Once Ratchet was no longer there to look at, the younglings attention and turned back to him. He seemed to be waiting for Orion to confirm or deny. Orion shifted where he sat, playing with the energon cube in his servos. Busted…

“It’s true… I hadn’t wanted to worry you over such things, but there had been no other choice,” Orion said.

“Why?”

“Why what, little one?”

“Why save me? What do you wish from me in return?”

Orion sat stunned. This youngling seriously expected him to repay him for saving his life. His shock flooded his field, and suddenly he felt horrible for this child who was far too mature for his age. It was wrong.

“Because you’re a youngling! I don’t want anything from you! You shouldn’t be like this at your age! You should be playing, and worrying what your future altmode is going to be, and what color you want your armor to be! Not having to hide and fight just to survive!”

Prowl looked down at his armor. What did it matter what color it was? At the moment, he was nearly all protoform grey, seeing as the medic had replaced so much of his original armor. 

‘What a strange thing to worry about,’ he thought to himself. 

He jumped when Orion held out the energon cube towards him. 

“For you,” he said, “You’ve been underfed for too long. You’re far too lightweight for your frame type. Ratchet wants you on a special diet so you can gain some weight. Here.” 

The cube was placed down and slid across the floor towards him. The mech wisely avoided making Prowl feel trapped this time around. Prowl stared down at the fuel for a long time, thinking hard. The mech could easily be lying. It wouldn’t surprise him. But an emotion he had long thought himself grown out of bloomed against his will. Hope. What if the mech told the truth. 

Prowl had fully expected to be snatched out of the corner and given a beating once the medic had finished repairing Orion. Or at least a whipping. Something. But the mech had been calm, and he seemed to have forgiven Prowl. If it was a trap, it was an extremely elaborate one. 

Finally, Prowl came to a decision. He would watch and wait to see how this played out. He needed to make them believe he would be obedient, so if it did turn nasty, he could at least have the element of surprise to escape. And while highly unlikely, the mech could also be telling the truth. He wondered what it would be like to have a home, to not have to fear beatings and punishments for no reason. Despite his life experiences telling him not to trust it, he wanted it. He wanted it badly. Slowly, he reached out and took the offered cube, cracking it and downing it quickly. He tried to ignore his new owners pleased smile. 

Once finished, he placed the now empty cube back on the floor, nudging it away with his pede. He watched as Orion collected it. Once the mech had returned from exposing it, he spoke again.

“Prowl.”

Orion turned to him, surprised. 

“What was that little one?”

“Prowl. My designation is Prowl, Master.”

Another pleased smile. Even bigger this time, if it were possible. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you officially then, Prowl. And please, I’m not your master, even if I did have to... buy you. Consider me more like your new mentor. You can just call me Orion. I know it will take time for you to trust me, but I swear to you I will never do you harm.”

Prowl just nodded. He was tired. He wondered if the cube had been drugged, but dismissed the idea quickly. He’d been drugged before, and this didn’t feel the same. He supposed his self repair was just taking up a lot of his energy. 

He watched as Orion stood from the floor, stretching with a groan. Prowl pressed back into the wall when he extended a servo towards him. Orion didn’t grab at him however, staying perfectly still.

“How about we head on home then, hm? I’ve had my friend Dion clear out my spare room for you, so you’ll have your own place to rest there. If we head out now, we can get there by early morning. I’ve got to be back at work the next day, and I suppose you’ll just have to come along too, but a day of rest for us both can’t hurt. Primus knows I could use a night in my own berth.”

Prowl considered the servo and realized he was being offered help standing. Not really sure what to do, he gently extended his own servo out to take Orion’s. His last master would have never allowed him to touch him in such a way. Orion simply tugged him up gently though, and together they walked out with the medic. Prowl stayed just behind Orion, servos clasped tightly together in front of him. 

He watched as the medic gave Orion a small box of packets, explaining that he was to have one mixed into his energon at each meal. He was also offered another box, this one filled with medical supplies. As Orion tucked the packages away, Prowl was surprised when the medic turned to him, kneeling down in front of him. 

“Listen here youngling. If anything hurts, or feels wrong, or even sounds funny to you, tell Orion. I will not be pleased if you come back here with an injury that could have been avoided, ok?” He waited for Prowl’s nod. “Good mechling. I know this is new for you, but give it a chance. Orion is as good as they come. He’ll do right by you if you let him.”

And with that, the medic backed away. Nodding towards Orion. Prowl turned when he heard a transformation sequence, watching as Orion folded down into a small truck form. Prowl remembered the mech mentioning alt modes earlier, and found himself briefly wondering what’s he would turn into once he got his final upgrade. 

Shaking himself, he glanced down the empty road. He could run. If he was fast enough, he could probably get away from them. 

“Prowl?” Orion’s voice broke through his thoughts. He sat patiently, the door to his cab open for Prowl to ride in. “Come along please. We need to head out now if we want to get home before the morning traffic gets bad.”

Taking a shuddering breath, Prowl pushed down his fear and crawled into the mech’s cab. He almost panicked when the door closed him in, but forced himself to keep still. Orion’s voice came through the speaker.

“If you’d like to lay down, you can. I’m afraid it's a bit of a boring ride. Not much to look at, and I don’t really have any entertainment pads. I forgot them all back home.”

Prowl nodded, before realizing that the mech probably couldn’t see that. Orion didn’t seem bothered by his lack of response however. And began driving down the road without further fuss. Prowl sat up on his knees, tucking his pedes underneath his aft, and looked out of the window. Ratchet waved them off, before returning to his clinic. 

Prowl watched the road slip by under them for some time, simply thinking. Finally, his repairs caught up to him and his optic shutters became too heavy to keep open. Sliding down from the window, he curled up on the seat. Orion was warm, and his seats were stiff, but not so uncomfortable that he couldn’t relax. 

He barely noticed when Orion began to mesh their fields, gently smoothing his new charge’s jagged one out with his own. Prowl slipped into recharge and stayed that way. He woke only long enough to climb out of Orion’s cab once they arrived at the mech’s home. Following behind, he was shown to a small room with a simple berth in it. Prowl had never had his own berth, and was slightly awed by the luxury of laying in it. Orion laid a warming blanket at his pedes.

“Ratchet said younglings are more likely to get chilled, so it's there if you need it. I’m in the room next to you if you need anything. Recharge well, Prowl.”

And with that, Orion retired to his own berth after checking that the doors and windows were all closed and locked. The housing unit fell silent as both youngling and adult fell deeply into a much needed recharge.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look! Another chapter! Because who needs sleep anyways? For real though, thank you to those who have been commenting and leaving kudos. I really love seeing them and hearing what y’all think. I didn’t expect this piece to get any sort of reaction at all, so I am blown away that even one person is asking for more let alone so many of you! I plan on starting the next chapter tomorrow and hopefully getting it up by Monday. Anyhoo, I’ll shut up so y’all can read. Tensions begin to boil as Prowl’s mistrust of Orion grows. Oh Prowl, you big doofus. Stop overthinking things already and let Orion love you! Enjoy y’all!

Dion laughed uproariously once he saw Orion’s face. Stumbling into his friend’s housing unit, he clutched at the back of the couch, vents making a strange wheezing sound. Orion rolled his optics, gently touching his still tender nasal ridge. He’d removed the bandages earlier in the day, but the weld lines were still highly visible. 

“The youngling did that to you?!” Dion asked.

“It was an accident. I startled him.” Orion said.

Another burst of laughter from Dion before his friend finally composed himself. 

“Well, where is he? I want to meet this little mystery mech for myself.”

Orion gestured for his friend to follow. He stopped before they entered the refueling room. Orion turned and leaned in to speak lowly.

“Please don't startle him. It took me forever to get him to come from his room to eat once we’d both woken up. He’s very skittish.” Orion said.

“Come on, Pax. I’m not going to jump at him. I just want to see him.”

“Still, regardless of how funny it looks, he nearly tore my nasal ridge off when I scared him. He’s actually speaking now, and I don’t want to upset him. This is surprisingly delicate. I knew he was going to be traumatized, but I don’t think I was ready for this.”

Dion paused, really taking his friend in for the first time. His face looked horrible, with the weld marks and all. The metal underneath his friend’s optics was dark, no doubt from the repair nanites localizing to his nasal ridge, but it made him look bruised. Orion’s optics were dim too, like he’d not recharged for far too long, though he knew Orion had woken about a joor before his shift had ended, because he’d sent a message saying to come visit once he was off. 

In all, his friend looked like warmed over slag. 

He sighed, looping an arm over Orion’s shoulders. “Alright, I’ll be careful. Now come on, let’s go see him.”

Together they entered the refueling room, only to find it empty. Dion glanced to Orion, wondering what to do. Sighing, Orion called out gently.

“Prowl? It’s alright. This is Dion. Do you remember me telling you he was coming over earlier? You’re safe, I promise.”

A shuffling noise brought their attention to the table, as the youngling peeled out at them from underneath. Slowly, Prowl crawled out of his hiding place to stand in front of them awkwardly. Orion smiled, reaching as though he intended to pat the younglings helm, but stopped when Prowl flinched back. 

Walking around to the half finished cube of energon, Orion pulled the chair out and addressed the youngling.

“Come on Prowl, why don’t you come and finish your energon while it’s still warm? We can all eat and talk.”

Prowl backed up away from Dion slowly, only turning once he’d reached the chair. Sitting, he continued to stare. It unnerved Dion a bit, though he would never have admitted to it. He didn’t think he’d ever met a youngling so intense. 

They all sat at the table once Orion had collected two more cubes. Handing one to his friend, he cupped his and sipped, eyeing Prowl who still hadn’t taken his optics off of Dion. Deciding to break the tension, Dion spoke up.

“Well, nice to finally meet you kid! I’ve heard a lot about you in the past few days. Gotta admit, when Pax opened the door, I thought I was going to be meeting a little predacon,” he let out a chuckle, elbowing Orion. His friend laughed a bit too, but the youngling was stoic as ever. 

Dion’s laughter died down and he took a sip of his cube, swallowing thickly. 

He tried again. “So, paint job is looking a bit worse for wear, huh? We should get you a fresh one since you’ll be coming with Orion to work tomorrow.”

Orion looked to him, “Eh, Dion? Maybe that wouldn’t be the best idea.”

Prowl chose then to speak, startling them both. 

“I don’t understand.”

Orion and Dion looked back to him, but Prowl was focused on Orion.

“What don’t you understand, little one?” Orion asked.

“Back at the clinic, you mentioned armor paint. Why is it important?”

Orion sat for a moment and thought, before deciding on an answer.

“Well, they help mecha show their individuality for one. It can be nice to change up your colors every once in awhile, but every mech also has natural color nanites that they eventually revert back to if they don’t keep their paint jobs up. They are very faded though, if you don’t take care of yourself.”

Prowl looked at his servos, which he had placed on the table. 

“How do you know what color you are? I don’t think I’ve ever been a different color.”

“Well, you haven’t really be able to maintain your finish I’m guessing. I can hardline with you and show you how to find it in your systems, but only if you wish me too.”

Prowl thought about it for a moment, before he thrust his arm out towards Orion. Orion pushed down his own glee at being shown such trust so soon. He wasn’t blind, and could clearly see the small tremors running up Prowl’s arm. The youngling was scared, even if he was trying to hide it. Gently taking the much smaller servo in his own, he released his data cables, which began to snake up to meet with the younglings. 

They connected quickly, Prowl having practically no firewalls to protect himself with. Another thing to add to the ever growing list of basic things Orion needed to provide him with. He went on though, guiding Prowl’s cautious consciousness along to show him where to locate his color nanite protocols lay. Shifting through them, he smiled and met Prowl’s optics in the world outside their frames. 

“Let’s see. You’ve got three tags, so you’ve got three colors. You’re supposed to be black and white across your frame,” Orion said.

“Where is the third color then?” Dion asked beside him.

Orion hummed thoughtfully, shifting through the data as quickly as possible so he didn’t make Prowl any more uncomfortable than the little one already was. Finally, he found it.

“Ah! It’s a very small piece. You’re mainly black and white, but your chevron is red. That’s the only place I can see.”

He disengaged their link, their respective cables slipping back into their armor. Prowl rubbed at the area they had connected, obviously uncomfortable. Orion was distracted by Dion standing suddenly. 

“Perfect! I can go get some paint and we can get some color on him!” Dion said.

“I’m not sure about that, Dion. Prowl might not be ready for that…” Orion said, glancing to the youngling still worrying at his cable ports. 

Dion noticed as well, but perked up again. “Well, even if he’s not, I can get it and you can have it when he’s ready.” With that, Dion turned and exited the room.

Orion sighed after he saw his friend out. He feared pushing Prowl too far. If he made the youngling too uncomfortable, he doubted that Prowl would tell him, and would allow it to fester until he had a meltdown. He decided he would give Prowl the choice on having him give him a new paint job. If the youngling wasn’t comfortable with it, he would not push it. He doubted Prowl really cared what he looked like at the moment, focused more on adapting to his new home. 

He returned to the refueling room to find Prowl finished with his meal. He cleaned the empty cubes as Prowl watched on from the living area. Orion had given him complete access to the few entertainment pads he owned, but the youngling didn’t seem sure of what to do with them. He’d just joined him when Dion returned. His friend placed the paint cans down, grinning triumphantly. 

“There! Now he can get some color on him if he wants,” Dion turned to Prowl, “What do you say, kid? Would you like a new paint job?”

Orion jumped in before Prowl could answer. “Only if you would really like to. You don’t have to if you don’t want to. It can wait a bit if you’re not ready.”

Prowl looked between the two mecha, silent for a moment, considering. He looked back up to the two adult mecha. 

“I would like to be painted, please.”

And so they did. 

*****

Prowl sat quietly underneath a table that Orion had indicated he remain near. He watched the adult mech lifting and organizing stacks of boxes that had come in on the different ships. Orion spoke quietly to his fellow workers, and Prowl knew he was telling them about him.

When they’d arrived, the different mecha had tried to swarm them, no doubt informed of his existence in Orion’s life by Dion. Prowl had yet to decide on whether he liked Dion or not. The mech was awkward around him, and while he seemed decent enough, Prowl didn’t care for his lack of respect for person space. 

The painting had been hard for him. It hadn’t helped that Orion was being so perceptive. He’d kept as still as he could, but the feeling of the two adult mecha painting him, especially on his wings, had set his plating crawling. Orion had offered multiple times for them to stop, but Prowl had pushed on. He needed to appear obedient. He didn’t trust these mecha, and a decent paint job could help him blend in if he had to make a run for it quickly.

Watching Orion work, he sat holding the small drawing pad. Orion had given it to him, saying that he could draw if he got bored. Prowl didn’t know what Orion wanted him to draw, so he simply held it. He ached more today that he had the day before, the medicine that Ratchet had given him beginning to wear off. Orion had more, but he had been cautioned against using it too often to avoid Prowl becoming too dependent or building a resistance to it. 

Prowl had certainly been used to being in a lot more pain, so he was largely unbothered by it. He glanced down at his servos, now freshly painted in a crisp white. He liked it, even if it had been difficult staying still for the painting. He felt cleaner than he ever had in his life. Even if he had to leave, he had to give it to Orion, the mech kept him clean and well fed. 

*****  
Three Deca-Cycles Later

Prowl woke up screaming. He was still gasping when the door to his room flew open, bringing another scream to his lips. He tossed his arms up to protect his helm.

“I’m sorry, Master! I didn’t mean to wake you! I promise to be quiet! I’m sor-” 

Prowl was shocked when instead of fists coming down over his helm or the snap of a cable coming across his wings, large arms lifted him effortlessly. Orion settled Prowl in his lap easily, rocking him lightly and murmuring gentle reassurances into his audio. Once his venting had slowed down, Orion shifted him so that he could look into his recharge dimmed optics. 

“It’s alright little one. I promise I won’t let anything hurt you here. Would you like to talk about it?”

Prowl shook his helm in the negative. He didn’t want to remember his old master. He didn’t want to be with this new one. He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be alone and safe. He wanted this mech to stop playing games with his helm. It never occurred to him that there were no games. That Orion really did just want to help. That it might be safe to let his guard down. Orion’s hand gently stroked from his scruff bar to the base of his back. Prowl tensed, waiting for the mech’s servo to wander lower. It didn’t, but Prowl knew it would come one day. 

Three deca-cycles he’d been here. He was so tired of waiting for the other pede to drop. Every touch to his plating left him tense. Orion, while well intentioned, could only assure Prowl so much. Prowl was convinced that he was no longer safe. Orion would get angry at him one of these orn. It would be a beating, or starvation, or Primus forbid he’d force Prowl to interface with him. He couldn’t take the pressure. Prowl made up his mind. He’d prepare tomorrow. He’d run at night after Orion went into recharge. 

Gently cradled within Orion’s arms, Prowl plotted. When Orion laid him back into his berth, tucking the heating blanket back around the youngling, Prowl pretended to be recharging. Once the mech had left the room, Prowl stared at the ceiling for a long time. He didn't know where he’d go, but he’d figure it out once he was far enough away. He refused to allow himself to be tricked. 

He would survive this. He’d survived far worse. He’d make it. He had to.

*****

Orion lay awake in the next room, unaware that Prowl was as wide awake as himself. He wasn’t blind. He knew Prowl still didn’t trust him. If anything, he seemed even more skittish. He’d been trying to hard to reassure the youngling, but he didn’t know what to do. Prowl was perfectly obedient, and Orion could tell he was biding his time. What Prowl was waiting for, he didn’t know however. 

He’d promised to protect Prowl, and that’s what he was going to do. But how could he do that if the youngling refused to let him? Knowing something was coming, but not what or how to prepare for it grated on him. And so, he lay awake as well, frustration mounting. It was all coming to a head, and he was completely powerless to stop it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter, but I had an unexpected thing come up yesterday and I figured something is better than nothing. Hope y’all enjoy! Till the next chapter!

Prowl waited until it was late in the dark cycle before he dared to move from his berth. Orion had put him to recharge joor ago, and Prowl had heard him retire not too long after. The mech worked hard during the days, effectively tiring himself out by the time they returned to his housing unit.

Sitting up, Prowl strained his audials for even the slightest noise. Upon hearing nothing, he slid down off of the berth. Reaching underneath, he grabbed a small pack that he had hidden a few orns prior. It contained a few energon cubes, some cleanser, and his blanket. Hefting it to settle between his doorwings, he slipped from his room into the main living area. 

Orion had never locked him in his room at night, which was proving to be a mistake on his part. He should have known Prowl would make a break for it eventually. He’d find out when he rose in the morning though. He walked as quietly as he could past Orion’s open berthroom door, freezing when the mech grunted in his recharge. Orion shifted onto his side and settled again, so Prowl continued on before he really was caught. 

He only had this one chance. If he was caught, then he wasn’t sure he’d ever have a chance at freedom again. Orion had never raised a servo to him in the decacycles since he’d taken Prowl in, but Prowl just didn’t know what to do with that. His entire life he’d been well acquainted with various punishments. Prowl couldn’t remember a time when he’d been so healthy, able to move without pain. He didn’t think he could count the times he’d been put in different seedy medbays to fix whatever his master had put his little frame through. 

He just wanted to be free, and while Orion promised him that freedom, Prowl just couldn’t trust it. He’d been burned too many times for that, and he was sick of waiting for the day Orion would snap. The mech was huge compared to him, far larger than his original master. The day Prowl angered him enough to snap, was the day Prowl might be offlined due to another mech’s rage. Prowl wouldn’t let it happen. He would slip away while he still could. 

Opening the door, he slipped out into the silent offcycle. He cringed as he began to move away from the living district. Instinct screamed for him to return now, to throw himself on the floor in front of Orion and beg for forgiveness. He would pray that the inevitable beating wouldn’t be bad enough to end with a medbay trip. 

Shaking himself, he glanced back at the still silent street. He turned back away, and began to move on.

*****

Orion’s optics snapped online when the silent alarm went off in his processor. The front door had been opened. After the fiasco that was Prowl coming into his life, he’d installed a security system that required his spark signature to enter. If the door or any windows were opened by someone other than him, he would receive a notification. He lay still for a moment, listening. He heard nothing, and slipped from his berth. 

Snatching up his pipe, he moved to the living room. Peeking around, all was still. He glanced towards Prowl’s room, and moved quickly towards it. Slipping in, he turned to wake the youngling, intending to tell him to hide while he searched their home, only to find it empty. In fact, it was completely empty, even the younglings blanket was missing. He stared at the vacant room for a moment, before throwing himself to the floor, looking under the berth. No Prowl. 

Things clicked for Orion then. Jumping back up, he moved out of the room and to the front window. Looking out, he didn’t see anything at first, but movement caught his optic just as he was about to move away. At the far end of the street, a small figure moved quickly, slipping around the corner and out of sight. But Orion saw the doorwings. Anger flooded through him, and he gripped his pipe tighter. Hefting it over his shoulder, he walked swiftly out of the door. 

Following behind where he’d seen his wayward charge disappear, he grumbled to himself. It was far too late, or early if he was being technical, for this kind of thing. He knew one thing, Prowl was definitely going to regret his actions once Orion got his servos on him. Prowl just better hope he caught up to him first. The docks were no place for a youngling.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Look here! A new chapter! They’ll probably be pretty random for the next two weeks as I am taking a class to get my teaching certification, which is taking a lot of time. But I hope to continue through the weekends and nights, so we shall see. So, we finally see what happens to Prowl when he really screws up. I’ll warn y’all, this chapter contains the disciplining of a minor, but it’s pretty tame. If it’s not your thing, don’t flame, just move on past that part please. Thank you and I hope y’all enjoy!

Prowl jumped when he heard loud laughter a few paces away from his hiding place. Hunching down further, he waited until the strangers had moved on. He’d been intending to go to the docks, having learned the way by spark after walking to it with Orion every day. His plan had been to hide in one of the outgoing ships, perhaps to Tarn or even Vos. The Vosians had proven to be sympathetic to slaves, specifically to their Praxian wing kin. They might be willing to take him in and allow him to live there, he just had to get there first. 

A loud bang sounded when a fight broke out between some of the mecha. He hunched further down when one fell to the ground in front of him. All the mech had to do was turn his helm and glance under the crate Prowl was hiding beneath and it would all be over. It didn’t happen though, and the mech rose back up, laughing as though he hadn’t just been punched in the nasal ridge moments ago. 

Prowl had made it so far. The docks were just across the street, but Prowl hadn’t expected there to be so many mecha hanging around the place. He needed to move quick if he wanted to remain out of sight so he could slip aboard a transport ship, but he’d almost been caught when he’d turned the corner and walked straight into someone, making the mech lose his drink. He’d ran, and had been forced to hide when the mech had gotten too close for comfort. 

He dared a peek from the edge of the crate. He needed to be getting on that transport now, or he’d miss his chance, and he was certain that Orion would be waking up soon. Looking down towards the transport, he saw four mechanisms, one of them being the mech whose drink he’d spilled. Far less than earlier. He could make it past them if he was fast. Glancing back the way he’d come just to be sure, he froze if terror as he recognized the familiar red and blue armor. 

Orion’s optics were tracking up and down the street as he made his way slowly down towards the docks. In his servo, he loosely swung a thick piece of pipe back and forth. Prowl’s doorwings flattened against his back at the thought of being struck with it. Orion’s movements were specific. He was looking very hard for something. He was looking for Prowl. 

Prowl began to shiver at the idea of Orion catching him. The mech was obviously angry, and Prowl doubted he’d be offered any sort of leniency if caught. He jerked backwards, trying to retreat to his hiding place before his master saw him, but the movement had caught Orion’s attention. Had Prowl still been his simple grey color, he might have blended enough, but his chevron was a bright contrast to the crate. Orion stopped, obviously surprised for a moment, before his face twisted. 

“Prowl! Get your little aft over here right now!” he shouted to Prowl, pointing to the spot in front of him.

Prowl felt the panic set in, and before he knew it he was up from beneath the crate, running in the opposite direction.

*****

Orion swore as he tore off after Prowl. The youngling had a good head start on him, but Orion was definitely taller by far and was quickly catching up. When he got his servos on that little one… 

Prowl disappeared around the corner, his wings fluttering about behind him as he ran. In the past decacycles, Prowl had been healing nicely, his wings finally able to be freed from his bandages. Orion had been enjoying seeing him twitch and flutter them about as the youngling became more comfortable with his surroundings. It made his attempt at running away all the more hurtful.

He came around the corner at full speed, fully intending to shout a second time. He knew Prowl was upset, but the docks were far more dangerous at this time than they ever were when he took him with him to work. What he saw had him stopping suddenly, not certain of what to do. 

Four mecha surrounded Prowl, one of them holding his wing in a harsh grip, using it to push the youngling to his knees lest he have his wing dislocated. Laughter rang out as the mech stooped down to speak to Prowl. His charge. He gripped his pipe tighter and began to approach. As he came closer, he began making out the words.

“Little fragger, spilling someone’s drink and then running off! You need a lesson in manners. Luckily for you-”

Orion never got to find out why Prowl was lucky. He was too busy cracking his pipe into the mechs helm as hard as he could. 

The mech dropped like a sack of spare parts, releasing Prowl as he went down. Orion only waited long enough for his charge to crawl off to the side before he began swinging again at the remaining mecha. They didn’t hang around long with their leader down, and soon Orion stood in the empty alleyway with an unconscious mech and a shaking youngling. He opened his vents as wide as he could to cool himself for a moment, only turning once he remembered his audience. 

Prowl sat curled up against the wall, nearly beside himself with his fear. One servo bracing himself up, the other holding his shoulder to rub away the ache of having his wing twisted. He let out a small sob when Orion turned his furious optics in him. Orion moved towards him, and he hunched down further, squeezing his optics shut and waiting for the first blow of the pipe to land. 

Orion dropped to his knees, discarding his weapon once down next to Prowl. He snatched up the youngling, crushing him to his chest plates in a desperate hug. He felt his own tears fall when Prowl cried out in fear. They stayed like that for some time, Prowl’s shaking slowly fading as he realized he wasn’t being hurt, Orion still shaking badly at the thought of what might have happened had he not been there. It was then the reality of what had happened hit Orion. Grasping Prowl by his upper arms, he drew his charge back from him, giving him a little shake. 

“Do you have any idea how dangerous what you did tonight was?!?” he shouted, “You could have been offlined! How dare you do something so reckless?!?”

He flooded his field with his fear and disappointment, watching as Prowl flinched back and feeling the first tints of shame from the youngling. He stood, snatching Prowl by the wrist with one servo, the other grabbing his pipe. Dragging his charge along, he began to lecture Prowl furiously as he walked back to their home. He’d never been so scared in his life, and he was suddenly struck by the realization that he couldn’t let this go without consequences. 

The walk home was not a long one, but he lectured the entire way, hardly even thinking of what he was saying. He was pretty sure it was a good lecture on responsibility and trust and not walking straight into one of the most dangerous areas of the Iacon docks, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember what he was saying. 

Prowl had very nearly been hurt. Badly. How was he supposed to handle this? How could he impress the severity of Prowl’s actions upon the youngling without punishment? Prowl was also still very skittish, and no doubt upset over seeing him acting so violently, but he didn’t want to just give Prowl some joke of a punishment either. He needed to learn that there were some things that would not be tolerated. 

Orion thought back to his own younglinghood. He knew what his own creators would have done. Running the idea over in his processors, he decided to go with the traditional way. He would not damage Prowl, and he would be sure to reassure and comfort him afterwards, but he had to do something that would stick. 

Summoning his courage, he brought Prowl into their living room once they’d reached their home. Shutting the door, he pushed Prowl’s nasal ridge into the closest corner with the order to reflect on his actions and to wait until he was called for. Slipping into his own room, he replaced his pipe to its hiding place. He took in a deep in-vent, before letting it woosh out, allowing himself a moment to calm down. Turning, he made his way back into the living room, ready to deal with his disobedient charge and dreading it completely.

*****  
A While Later...

Prowl bawled loudly into the crook of Orion’s neck. His mentor rubbed gentle circles into his lower back plates, murmuring softly into his audial and rocking him back and forth. Orion’s field was a calming blanket around him, and already Prowl was beginning to feel the strain of the night catching up. 

He’d been nearly beside himself with fear when Orion had left him waiting. The lecture he’d been on the receiving end of on the walk home had been bad enough, but to feel the honest disappointment and upset in the adult mechs field had been something he had never encountered before. He’d never felt that before when his last master had been preparing to punish him. Anger, disgust, even sick pleasure, but never something quite like what Orion put out. 

He’d flinched when the mech had returned from his room, and Prowl watched him through his wings. He couldn’t register the pipe anymore, but that didn’t mean that would stop the mech from simply using his servos to beat him. And use his servos the mech had, just not in the way Prowl had expected.

He’d jumped to obey when called, hoping to avoid extra punishment from being tacked on for being slow. He’d barely registered what Orion had said, too focused on watching the mechs servos, and had been surprised when one had come up to cup his chin, forcing his helm up to meet his mentors optics. 

“I care for you, Prowl, and I can’t allow you putting yourself in danger to go unpunished. I promise I won’t damage you in any way, but it is my job to keep you safe, and I’m going to make sure you won’t soon forget what happens when you do things like this. From now on, if you knowingly put yourself in danger like you did tonight, this is what you can expect.”

And with that, he’d been lifted up and bent across Orion’s lap, his mentor locking his arm around his waist to keep him from squirming away. The spanking had not been a particularly long one, and certainly nowhere near as severe as some of the punishments he’d received before with his last master, but Prowl had never felt so ashamed in all his life. 

Before, punishments had only ever brought fear, effectively stopping his more rebellious tendencies. This had been something else though. Orion had definitely held back. Prowl remembered seeing the heavy crates he had lifted every day at his job, but he certainly had Prowl’s attention. Using just enough force to make each ringing smack light Prowl’s sensor net up with pain, but not damage, he kept his promise. Prowl was fairly certain he’d not even chipped his paint.

Despite not being damaged, he was still left with a raging fire in his aft, and by Primus it hurt.

Orion stood, holding him close where Prowl had been expecting to be placed down and discarded. Slowly, he walked into Prowl’s room, and stopped at his berth. Prowl realized with sadness that he had left his blanket and supplies back underneath the crate, abandoned in his panic. Orion seemed to come to the same conclusion, and without a word, turned back and instead brought them into his own room. 

Prowl found himself curious, looking around as he scrubbed at his tear stained face, still hiccuping but feeling far calmer. Laying him down on his front gently, Orion joined him a moment later after cutting the lights out. Wrapping his large arms around Prowl, he hugged him close, and placed a small kiss on top of his helm. 

“Prowl?” he said in the darkness.

Prowl sniffled, “Yes sir?” he asked.

“Please don’t ever make me do that again. I hate making you cry.” Orion reached up, and wiped his cheeks clean with his servo.

Prowl found himself nuzzling into Orion’s warm chassis as he settled, his own servo tucked behind him to rub at his sore backside. 

“Yes sir,” he said. Hesitating for a moment, he dared to ask the question that had been burning in him since they’d returned home. “Is… is that all the punishment?”

He felt Orion shift and saw his optics light back up.

“Yes, Prowl. There’s no more punishment. The matter has been dealt with. It’s behind us now and you’re forgiven. Now, we’ve only got a few more joor before we’ve got to get back up. I’ve still got work, I used up all of my personal orn when we were at Ratchet’s. Now go into recharge little one.” 

One last kiss was pressed to Prowl’s helm, and he found himself believing Orion for the first time since meeting him. He fell into recharge wrapped warmly in Orion’s arms, and content for the first time in his life.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! So, we do a bit of a time jump here, which is funny to me because someone suggested doing just that in the comments of the last chapter as I was writing this. I hope everyone is doing nicely this weekend! I did some artwork on my tumblr page of this piece, so if anyone wants a link just let me know! On to the story!

_ Three Vorn Later _

 

Prowl sat at the small terminal in the docks main office, typing furiously. Every once in a while, his optics would dart to the clock on the far side of the wall, before he would immediately focus back on his task with renewed vigor. He was so focused on his task, he barely noticed the docks head, Hauler, enter the main room from his office.

 

“You’d better not be makin’ any mistakes because you’re rushing youngling. I make you do it all over again if you do.” he said, though the fond smile on his aged faceplates betrayed him. Prowl glanced his way, blinking.

 

“I don’t make mistakes, sir,” he said. 

 

Hauler threw his helm back and laughed. 

 

“Aye. That’s true youngling. Just slow down a bit, before you set mah keyboard on fire. Just because you finish early doesn’t mean your mentor gets out of his shift early. You’ll just be stuck sitting around, and that’ll be worse!”

 

Prowl paused in his work, before nodding and turning away. 

 

“I suppose I should probably stop for mid orn meal. Has Orion already gotten his ration?” he asked. 

 

Hauler held out two cubes. 

 

“That’s what I was coming to tell ya. Go bring ‘im his if ya will,” he said.

 

Nodding again, Prowl rose, wincing as his tight back cables rebelled against him. He exited the small office building into the heat of the orn, walking swiftly around the dock towards the loading areas. He passed a few mecha, each of them nodding or greeting him, most of them reaching out to pat or rub at his helm. He ducked away from those he could, only allowing Dion a quick shoulder touch. 

 

He was nearly an adult mech now. He didn’t get his helm patted like a sparkling. 

 

Coming to the far dock, he quickly spotted Orion. Waving to him once noticed, he sat down in the shade of one of the transports, watching Orion put down his load to come to him. Once Orion had settled next to him, he gave his mentor his ration before cracking the seal on his own and taking a sip. 

 

“How’re things in the office? You keeping up with all that filing Hauler has you doing?” Orion said.

 

Prowl nodded, “It is fine. Hauler is clear in his expectations, yet realistic. I am actually ahead of schedule today, so once you have finished your duties, we may leave.”

 

Orion threw his helm back and laughed. 

 

“I’m trying over here. I’ve been pushing it myself so we can get out and beat the crowd.”

 

Prowl was nodding and finishing off his cube, looking towards Orion who had yet to open his own. Chuckling, Orion bumped against him with his shoulder guard. Prowl winced as some of the condensation from Orion’s frame stuck to him, wiping at his arm carefully.

 

“You’ll do fine, Prowl. You studied so hard that there’s no way they won’t take you in. You’ll get your final frame in a few orn and then you’ll be off doing what I know you want to do. Just relax and biting your lip, you’re chipping your paint.”

 

Orion laughed even harder when Prowl slapped a servo over his mouth in horror before jumping up and running back towards the office to fix his finish. The poor youngling had spent almost an entire joor in the wash racks this morning, checking himself over and buffing himself to a near perfect shine. Orion had been forced into the honor of helping him with his doorwings, having to fight to keep from hurting his young charge as he fidgeted underneath the polishing cloth. 

 

Tossing back the remainder of his cube, he stood and moved quickly back to his work, determined to get out as soon as possible for his over eager youngling.

 

*****

 

Prowl was all but vibrating in place as he and Orion waited in the reception area of the Iacon Enforcers Department. The enforcer at the desk had been helpful, and all that they had to do was wait for the mech to return with the test results.

 

Both Prowl and Orion jumped when the door leading further into the department slammed open, cracking loudly against the wall behind it. A furious looking mech came storming through, leading a sobbing youngling about Prowl’s age out by the shoulders. The mech turned to the reception mech, who looked completely unsurprised by all the fuss. 

 

“You mecha don’t know what a valuable addition to your ranks you’re letting go! You tests are a joke! Rest assured that the council will be hearing about the complete lack of competence your chief is showing in turning  _ my  _ charge away!” the mech shouted, not even bothering to slow. They exited as quickly as they had entered, and the room was suddenly silent again. Orion and Prowl exchanged nervous looks, before Orion looped his arm around Prowl. He leaned in close to his own charge’s audial.

 

“Don’t worry, Prowl. I’m sure you did fine.” 

 

Prowl looked entirely unconvinced.

 

He shot up out of his seat to stand ramrod straight when the interior door opened again. The enforcers chief was an intimidating mech to say the least. Standing tall the mech had to be some sort of carrier type if his exaggerated chassis was any indication. He glanced down at them, sneering down his nasal ridge. 

 

“Prowl, charge of Orion Pax?” 

 

His query was more of a demand. Prowl refused to budge, not flinching from his perfect attention standing, though Orion felt his field fill with trepidation. Orion had never felt so proud in his life, he was certain. 

 

Prowl stepped forward and addressed the mech, “I am Prowl, Sir.”

 

The chief looked him over for a moment, before crooking his digit in a ‘come along’ motion, and turning away to walk back from where he had entered. Prowl glanced back to Orion as he followed and received a massive smile and a thumbs up. He disappeared behind the door as it shut behind him. 

 

*****

 

When Prowl returned, Orion had rpnearly fallen into recharge sitting upright in the waiting room. He jerked up, smacking his helm hard against the wall behind him when the sound of the door hit his audials. 

 

Prowl strode out, clutching a stack of data pads that came up all the way to his chin. Rubbing the back of his aching helm, Orion stood and joined his charge, taking the bulk of the load from him. Together, they exited the building. Prowl’s face was completely blank. Finally, Orion could not hold back his curiosity.

 

“So, how’d it go? Did you pass the tests? What’s all this?” he lifted the stack of pads. 

 

The question seemed to shake Prowl from his stupor. 

 

“I passed the tests.”

 

Relief flushed through Orion. Prowl’s silence had worried him. He wasn’t sure Prowl could handle having his dreams crushed. 

 

“That’s wonderful, Prowl! So, what’s with all the data pads? Is this for the next round of tests?”

 

Prowl stopped as they waited for the traffic to allow them to cross the street into the residential area. 

 

“No, Orion. You don’t understand. I passed everything with perfect marks. The chief said that I was exempt from the rest. They’re going to fund my final upgrade completely, and I’ll join the academy as soon as they’ve settled. I’m going to be an enforcer!”

 

Orion was so flabbergasted that he nearly missed the lights changing, allowing them to continue walking home. They walked in silence the rest of the way home, both still too stunned to react.

 

Dumping the data pads on their table, both stood staring at one another. Suddenly, a massive smile spread across Orion faceplates. He began laughing, before he snatched Prowl up into his arms, hugging him tightly and spinning him around the room. Prowl had tried to protest, but was too busy laughing and cheering himself. 

 

That night, Prowl sat in Orion’s lap as they went of the enforcers guidelines. Prowl relished the feel of his mentor’s field wrapping around his own. In a few orn, he’d be too big to do this sort of thing anymore. Flicking through the pad, he found himself smiling, something he’d been doing for more recently. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! So, like, long time no see... I’m very sorry for the wait. I had been taking a class on how to teach, and ended up getting a job offer. It is my dream job, but I had to move in two days. Then I had to get settled and figure my life out with the new job, so my writing got put on hold. But here is the next chapter! I’m so happy so many of you are enjoying it! Thank you for commenting! It always boosts me up to get them, and encourages me to keep this little fix going. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy! To the story!

_Three Vorn Later_

  
Prowl stood glaring at the wall in his room. He and Orion had pushed the few pieces of furniture he owned (a small table and a berth better suited to his now fully grown doorwings), aside to clear the wall for a project back when he’d first started his career with the enforcers, and had never bothered to put it back. Pictures were pinned to the wall, with colored wires connecting them and creating a massive puzzle. Orion called it a helmache.

  
Speaking of his mentor, he flicked a wing in greeting through the open door as the mech came home. Optics still on the wall and fully focused on his task, he didn’t pay Orion his full attention until he received a light flick on the tip of his left wing. Jumping, he turned to glare.

  
“I take you in and raise you out of the kindness of my spark and you can’t even say hello to your mentor anymore?” Orion asked, servo resting over his chassis in mock hurt. Prowl rolled his optics and and turned back to the task of glaring.

  
“Hello, Orion. How was your shift?” he asked politely.

  
“It was fine. Still just hauling crates around. Nothing exciting like you do. How about yours? Did you catch any criminals today?” Orion asked, teasing.

  
Prowl shot him a look that told him they both knew he’d been at this all orn. They both turned back to the wall. Orion grew quiet beside him, suddenly serious.

  
“Any luck in finding out who they are?” he asked.

  
Prowl heaved a sigh.

  
“No.”

  
An arm wrapped around his shoulder guards as Orion tugged him close in for a half hug. Normally, Prowl shied away from such intimacies, but he allowed it for a moment. He was far too down to be bothered by Orion’s penchant for physical touch.  
“You’ll find them, Prowl. You’ve worked so hard to become the expert everyone talks about. You’re the best at what you do.”  
He allowed Orion to tug him away and into the living area for their end of orn energon.

  
Together, the took their energon sitting across from one another. They sat silently for some time, Orion thinking hard on their shared project, Prowl simply trying to rest his overclocked processor. He wasn’t very successful, and once his optics began to flicker, Orion reached over to take his servos in his own.

  
“I know how hard it is for you to not know, but you’re going to throw yourself into another logic loop if you don’t take a break. Let’s not have to call Ratchet over here again.”

Prowl winced at the memory and shut down his logic processor for the night cycle. The first time he’d crashed had been not long after his first and only escape attempt. Having Orion punish him had always made him feel horrible, and while he’d not required punishment often, it had happened once or twice. After his escape attempt, the guilt had been crushing. He’d been too emotionally damaged at the time to even understand that what he was feeling was guilt.

  
The crash had come out of nowhere. The pain had been intense, forcing Prowl to his knees. Thankfully, he didn’t remember much after that. He recalled hearing Orion frantically calling his designation, feeling his mentor clutching him close to his chassis, then everything had gone black. He woke later in his berth, helm throbbing and too weak to do more than turn his helm side to side. He’d found Orion next to him, helm resting on his crossed arms next to him.

  
Ratchet had just about glitched his audials with the lecture that had followed. He had been keeping the pain of his overclocked processor to himself, and Ratchet had been understandably upset at having to drive the four jours it took to get to Orion’s and his home, only to discover he’d known it was coming on. They’d known about the advanced processor he possessed. Ratchet had found it when he’d been repaired for the first time. Prowl himself could not really remember much of it being put in. He recalled pain and knew he didn’t really want to try to push himself too much.

  
They learned the warning signs quickly after that, the main one being that his optics would flicker. Pushing himself out of his chair, he took their empty cubes and began to clean them in the small sink. Once finished, he slumped down onto the couch next to Orion, who had turned on the evening news. He stared down his knees, flinching when Orion laid a servo on one.

“You’ll find them, Prowl. I promise you, we will.”

  
Prowl sighed, “I know. Just... do you remember...”

  
Orion shook his helm, “You know I’d tell you if I did. We’ve gone over it a million times...”

  
Prowl jumped up and began pacing.

  
“But what if you missed something. Maybe they had some different markings or...”

  
“Prowl.”

  
Prowl stopped, his back to Orion. His wings twitched as he sensed his mentor stand behind him.

  
Orion took in his quivering charge. Prowl had come so far in the vorn since his upgrade. Together, they’d begun to search for the three mecha who had been chasing him. The mecha he’d bought Prowl from. Prowl had become overcome with the need to find them, knowing that they were out there hunting other runaway slaves. It was what had pushed him to become an enforcer in the first place.

  
The day they’d discovered that the mecha hadn’t been enforcers in the first place had been hard on them both. They’d been lied to, and once they’d discovered that the ‘enforcers’ had been a bunch of con artists and sadists, Prowl had made it his mission to find them. If he could help other runaway slaves, he could make a difference, like Orion had done for him.

They parted ways for the night cycle, and Prowl’s rest was fitful at best. When he onlined, Orion had already left for his shift. A cube of energon had been left out for him, and he smiled lightly at it. Even after he’d become accustomed to his adult form, Orion had continued to care for him. Prowl found himself caring just as much for Orion over the time they’d been together. Orion had been tricked by the mecha just like he had. They’d stolen his hard earned credits. Orion had wanted to go to school so badly, and Prowl couldn’t help feeling bad for being the reason he wouldn’t get to live his dreams.

  
Prowl spent his shift at the station in a fog, wishing to return home quickly so he could continue to brainstorm. He was clicks from being able to leave when the alarms began to blare. He jumped into action with the rest of those on duty, reporting to the releasing docks. As they drove, he asked the mech next to him what had happened.

  
“Weren’t you paying attention, Prowl?!? We’re under attack! The Decepticon’s bombed the docks!”

  
Prowl’s vision began to tunnel. He’d never connected to the enforcers datanet in his functioning. He prayed. He wasn’t even sure he believed in Primus, but he prayed anyway. The connection went through and his spark sank with dread. It was Orion’s dock. The first responders hadn’t reported any survivors yet. Prowl gunned his engine to the red.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A double whammy! I felt bad making everyone wait so long, so instead of being a good teacher, I let my students do a project and I sat at my desk and wrote fanfiction. XD I loved everyone's comments and look forward to seeing all of your reactions!

Orion came back to his senses and immediately regretted it. Everything hurt. The smell of melting metal and freshly spilled energon hit him and he gagged. He thought he could hear something, the steady crack of it not far off penetrating the sounds of the dying. He tried to shift, crying out as the metal beam that had lodged itself into his right shoulder held firm, pinning him beneath the rubble. Lifting his left servo, he winced at the sight of his ruined digits. They were twisted nearly backwards, but his thumb was still in the correct position. 

 

He gently wrapped his servo around the beam, the cracking sound coming closer. Using his thumb and palm, he clutched the beam as tightly as he could, and yanked. A scream ripped from his throat, as the pain nearly knocked his back offline. Fighting back against the nausea that was overwhelming him, he gave another sharp yank. 

 

The beam finally came free with a slick jolt. Panting with pain, he fell forward, no longer pinned up against the wall, and collapsed down. Energon trailed down his chassis from the wound, and his legs felt wet as well. Reaching down, he felt around his codpiece, and realized he had voided his primary waste tank on himself. He felt strangely detached. He should probably be embarrassed at the fact that he’d wet himself like a sparkling, but he wasn’t. Shock he decided. He was in shock. 

 

Someone was nearby, moaning. Turning his helm, he noticed a mech a little further away, gasping and reaching out towards him. His face was the picture of fear. Orion began to crawl towards the mech. He didn’t recognize him. Must have been a courier or something like that. He looked so small.

 

Orion reached him a few moments later, reaching up from his place on the ground.

 

He recoiled harshly when the mech’s helm exploded in a shower of energon, the crack of a blaster going off next to his helm deafening him. He turned his helm, gore staining his face, and stared up into the Decepticon’s face as the mech turned the blaster to him.

 

*****

 

Prowl felt his vents stall as he finally came up on the docks. It was barely a story high anymore, and mostly on fire. He checked the office first, barely stopping to mourn over the overseers body. He’d always been good to Prowl, always patient. Clearing the rubble away from the desk, which thankfully hadn’t been buried too badly, he thrust open the desk drawer. After a moment's search, he found the daily work assignments. Orion was on dock thirty four. They’d all been hit, but at least he had a heading now.

 

He tore out on pede, no longer able to drive on the ruined passage ways. He could remember being small enough to drive between mecha’s legs when he’d been younger. When Orion had been teaching him to drive. He’d not even said goodbye to his mentor this morning… 

 

He shook himself as he came up on dock thirty four. Unsubspacing his blaster, he clutched it tightly and began to pick through the rubble. He’d not shot his acid pellet rifle in the field yet, only on the range. I hoped he wouldn’t have to this orn, but he wasn’t naive either. The Decepticon movement had just graduated from upset labor class to outright terrorists. As he moved further up the dock, a sudden and terrible realisation struck him. Each body he came across was dead, and while not surprising with the damage all around them, every bot supported a blaster shot through the helm. 

 

He jumped at the sound of a blaster going off not far from him. Just around the corner. He moved as silently as he could. Jumping around the corner, he leveled his blaster and fired without hesitation. The mech went down with a gurgling scream, and stayed down. He approached cautiously, staring down at the mech. His first ever kill. Primus he’d need to see the enforcers therapist for months after today. 

 

“Prowl?” 

 

Prowl’s helm snapped around to the mech he’d previously thought offline by his pedes. The mech was covered in soot, hiding his paint job completely. He’d never forget those optics though. A sob burst through his lips and he collapsed down to his knees next to Orion. 

 

His Orion. He was alive.

 

*****

 

Orion had flinched when he’d heard the shot being taken, but was surprised by the lack of pain. He took an embarrassingly long time to reopen his optics, and had been stunned to see Prowl, not Primus, standing over him. When he’d called out, Prowl had turned to him with a look of pure fear on his face. He couldn’t remember a time Prowl had looked so scared since he’d started caring for him. Reaching up, he’d tried to wipe Prowl’s tear stained face, before remembering his servo had been crushed. 

 

He allowed Prowl to help him to his pedes, shaking with the effort. Glancing down, he grimaced. 

 

“I think I voided on myself,” he said to Prowl.

 

Prowl merely shook his helm. 

 

“That is a common reaction to severe body trauma. It’s alright,” he said.

 

“I should go tell Hauler. He’ll need to know I need a few orns sick leave…”

 

Orion glanced around, looking for the mech.

 

“Hauler is offline, Orion. Everyone is,” Prowl said in a matter of fact way. Orion wondered if he was in shock as well. It felt so strange.

 

“But I saw him this morning…”

 

Orion slumped down then, taking Prowl to the ground with him. His vision bounced as his helm struck the ground, and static blurred is vision. He never felt it. Then, everything went black.

 

*****

 

Prowl sat on his knees beside Orion, tears streaming down his face as he screamed for help down the comms. Clutching the revivors from his medkit in his shaking servos, he delivered pulse after pulse of energy into Orion’s chassis. No matter what he did, his mentor’s spark continued to fade away.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live! I’ve been crazy busy with work, but my students got me sick, so I’ve been at home and had time to write. Sooo, yay?

Orion’s optics cracked open slowly. His chassis and arm ached the worst, but if he was entirely honest with himself, he just plain hurt all over. The first thing he noticed after his pain was that the ceiling above him was beautiful. Artwork in the form of murals stretched above him, all depicting different primes or Primus himself. Turning him helm, he realized he was not alone. 

 

Prowl lay facing him in the cot next to him. His charge’s optics were offline and his face was twisted up into a scowl. He was having a nightmare, Orion had seen him have them enough to know. He lifted his servo, newly repaired he noticed, and reached to shake Prowl awake. 

 

A small servo closed over his before he could. 

 

“You should let him rest. He’s been searching for survivors nonstop for four orn.”

 

Orion glanced up, and noticed for the first time the tiny femme sitting on the end of his cot. She leaned back and reclined against his legs. She was mainly yellow and white, with tasteful hints of black streaking across her frame. She looked so delicate, and he couldn’t place what her frame type might have been. He was the most taken aback by her optics. They were white. He’d never seen a bot with white optics before.

 

“W-who?” he croaked.

 

“Just a friend, Orion.”

 

Orion heard someone cry out in pain. The femme seemed unfazed by those around her. She had turned for a moment, before presenting him with a cube of energon. His hunger surged to the front of his processor, and he leaned forward to sip from it.

  
  


“You very nearly met Primus, my friend,” she said.

 

Orion smiled weakly. 

 

“I feel like I almost did.”

 

A servo settled across his chassis. He winced at the slight touch. 

 

“No friend. You came far too close…”

 

Orion slipped back into a fitful recharge.

 

*****

  
  


He woke again to Prowl gently running a cloth over his chassis. Prowl was methodical and precise with the cleaning, handling the normally intimate task with a blank look on his face, which immediately tipped Orion off to his mental status. He went to sit up, but was overtaken by a coughing fit. The sound of his rattling vents worried him a bit. Prowl’s attention snapped to him as soon as he’d moved, and his charge was there helping him to sit up.

 

“Easy, Orion. Don’t try to push yourself too fast,” he said.

 

Once he’d calmed down, Prowl helped him to sip from a cube of energon, supporting his helm. 

 

“How are you feeling? Are you in any pain?” Prowl asked.

 

Orion winced, “A little sore, but I think I’ll be alright until a medic comes by. Where are we?”

 

“The temple of Primus. They offered to open their main rooms for the injured. There weren't many…” 

 

“You found me. You saved me.” Orion smiled up at Prowl.

 

“Not soon enough. You almost guttered. I almost lost you.”

 

“But I didn’t. I’m still here, Prowl.” 

 

Orion took Prowl’s servo in his own shaking one. 

 

The lovely scene between them was shattered once Ratchet came by and saw him awake. He was there immediately, touching Orion’s bandaging and checking his vitals. The lecture that had been in the works quickly lost its steam. Orion hadn’t done anything. He’d simply gone to work that orn. Ratchet switched targets then.

 

“Fragging Decepticons! They started as a peaceful protest group! Now look at what they’ve done! Offlined innocent bots! The council is going to be coming for them now!”

 

“Why would they target the docks? What were they looking to destroy?” Orion asked.

 

“They just wanted to make a statement, Orion. That was it. That’s the only reason we could think of,” Prowl said.

 

Orion lay back after that, taking in the information. So many hurt or offline, and for what. He thought of his own near offlining and his processor brought him back to his conversation with the femme. 

 

“Ratchet, where is that nurse? The yellow femme?” he asked.

 

“A yellow femme?” Ratchet asked, “ I think you’re confused Orion. There’s no femme nurses here. Not even any of our mecha are yellow. You must have been having a bad flux.” 

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo! And we come to another chapter! Hope y’all enjoy!

The orns passed slowly for Orion. Sometimes when he woke, Prowl wasn’t there, sometimes he was. Usually, if Prowl was there, he cared for Orion. It was honestly embarrassing for Orion, having his adult charge helping him keep clean and walk him to the racks to void his tanks and eat, but he was still terribly weak. Prowl insisted that it was no problem for him, muttering under his vents that he’d done far worse. 

 

When he was alone, it was near endless boredom. Prowl had brought him some entertainment pads from their home, but Orion was still too stiff from his injuries to sit up for long periods of time. Ratchet came by to tend to his injuries, and would speak with him some, but he was busy with everyone else’s injuries. And so he was often left to his own devices. It was processor numbing. He missed talking to Dion.

 

Prowl was gone today, working his shift out at the enforcers station. Orion turned his helm to look at his berth neighbor. Whoever the unfortunate mech was, he couldn’t recognize him. His armor was burned and twisted horribly, and the mech hadn’t woken up once. Orion worried for him, whoever he was.

 

Pulling himself up took a long time, but he finally swung his pedes to the side of the berth. Stopping to catch his vents, he glanced around. Rows and rows of berths occupied the space. Standing, he made his way slowly down the path. Clutching the end rails of each berth, he stopped and looked at each occupant. Some were awake, and nodded or even spoke with him briefly, but by the time he found the one person he had been searching for, he was nearly ready to collapse. 

 

Dion was on his back, wires attached to him all over. He looked like he hadn’t moved in a long time. Orion sat at the foot of his friend’s berth, reaching up to clasp his servo. He sat there for a long time, looking down at his comatose friend. Once he’d finally regained enough strength to walk again, he stood. Taking note of where Dion was he returned to his own berth. 

 

*****

Ratchet hadn’t been pleased to hear he’d been walking.

 

“You’re still too weak for that slag Orion!” he’d shouted the next time he’d come to check in on him. The near depletion of his reserves had given him away. 

 

Orion sat through the entire lecture, only giving Prowl a brief nod of greeting when he’d come to see him after his shift. He refused to let himself feel betrayed when Prowl took Ratchet’s side. He knew they were just worried for him. But the doubt nagged at him. 

 

“What about Dion?” 

 

Ratchet fell silent. He glanced away. 

 

“Is he… he’s going to alright isn’t he?” Orion asked.

 

Ratchet sighed, sitting down next to Orion. 

 

“He was badly damaged. Half of his helm was crushed in by rubble. I fixed the damage, but I can’t make him wake up. We’ve just got to wait and see. I’m sorry for keeping it from you. We just figured you didn’t need the extra stress.”

 

The anger bled away from Orion, replaced by a deep sadness. Laying back, he stared at the murals, and prayed. 

 

*****

 

He awoke the next morning to something jabbing his nasal ridge. He blinked his optics open, squinting in the morning light. A laugh echoed down from towards the end of the berth rows. Glancing to his side, he noticed Prowl was gone. He must have been getting energon. Sitting up, he struggled to step out of his berth. 

 

Glancing down the rows towards the end, he was surprised to see the yellow femme. She peeked around the corner at the end of the hall, laughing again before disappearing from view.

 

“Hey! Wait a click!” 

 

Orion struggled after her, limping heavily. Coming around the corner, he paused. The temple was a holy place. Regular bots didn’t just walk into the inner rooms. The priests had been very generous, and he didn’t want to betray their trust. Then, he saw her. She smiled, and waved him closer. 

 

“I’m not supposed to go back there,” he said. 

 

She smiled even bigger. “It’ll be alright. Come on!” Stepping closer, she took his arm and tugged him after her, leading him further into the temple. 

 

They walked for some time, Orion becoming more and more tired as they went. Finally, he stopped. Slumping against the wall, he turned to her. 

 

“Who are you? I thought you were a nurse. How do you know your way around this place?” he asked.

 

“I’m no nurse. I told you. I’m your friend.” She smiled widely up at him.

 

Orion stared at her for a moment, and suddenly found himself regretting following a complete stranger into a place he wasn’t even allowed to be in. He turned to look back the way they had come. Perhaps he could find a priest and claim he was confused from a helm injury. A small servo touched his shoulder. 

 

“I know you are uncertain, but I really do want to help. There’s so much good you can do. But you have to trust in me. In Primus. Come, I want to show you something,” she said. She tugged at him again,

 

Orion held firm for a moment, looking at her hard. He took in her flawless finish, the way she held herself. She looked unreal. Her looked into her wide blue optics…

 

“Wait a klik! I thought your optics were white! Why are they blue now? Who are you?!”

 

The femme’s face turned serious. 

 

“I’ll tell you everything you need to know, but you’ve got to come with me. We can’t be caught.”

 

Still nervous, Orion allowed himself to be tugged along. They walked again until Orion was certain he was about to collapse. Suddenly, the femme stopped. 

 

Turning, she lifted her servo to rest on pad on the wall. A nondescript door opened before them and she walked through. Orion followed, stepping into the room after her. 

 

It was completely empty, save for a bare berth pad laying on the floor and a mirror on the wall. She sat down and  patted the pad.

 

“Come. Rest some. I know you’re tired.”

 

Cautiously, Orion obeyed, sitting heavily down on the pad next to her.

 

“I can tell you who I am, but first, I must ask you a very serious question. If you could change Cybertron for the better, would you?” she said.

 

Orion sat for a moment, taken aback. 

 

“What sort of question is that?! What normal mech wouldn’t try to change the world for the better?” he asked.

 

The femme shook her helm. Staring down and her servos, which she had placed in her lap. 

 

“What if it hurt you? What would you sacrifice for those you loved? For that enforcer mech who cares for you so much. For that mech who hasn’t woken up yet?”

 

Jolting, Orion moved away from her slightly, now really regretting following her. Frag his curiousness. 

 

“Have you been watching me? What are you, some kind of spy?”

 

“No. I just need to know. Would you do whatever you had to do to protect them?” 

 

Orion pressed his lips tightly together. He was pretty certain this femme was damaged and just didn’t know it. This was getting far too weird for him. He was wary of upsetting her too much, just in case she might end up reacting badly, so he humored her for a moment. 

 

“Of course I would. That’s what decent mecha do. They help whenever they can.”

 

She smiled up at him, seeming sad. 

 

“That’s what I thought. You’re exactly what I’ve been looking for over the vorns. I’m sorry about this next part, but I’m afraid it’s necessary, Optimus. I’ll see you when you wake.”

 

“Optimus? Who’s th-”

 

She grabbed his wrist in a grip far too powerful for her tiny frame. Locking optics with him, his widened at the pure white light her optics gave off. Yanking down on his arm, she brought him closer to her and thrust her other servo up. Cupping his face plate, her thumb pressed into his forehelm. Pain laced through his entire frame and he struggled to escape. It was no use, he may as well have been paralyzed for all the good his struggles afforded him. 

 

In the lowest level of the temple, his long screams of pain echoed against the walls. The door they’d come through slammed shut on a remote command, hidden locks engaging, and he was trapped with the demon with white optics. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo! New chapter! Sorry for the wait, but alas, grad school has started. I hope to have more in soon, but we shall have to see how my work schedule pans out. I tried to make this chapter a little bit longer to make up. I hope y’all enjoy! ;*

Orion gasped, waking suddenly and lurching up from where he had been laying on his back plates. For a moment, he thought his optics were malfunctioning. There was nothing but white. Glancing around, he hefted himself up from the floor. If it was even a floor. His servos looked like they spring air. Looking around, he saw nothing. Nothing but white.

 

He started to walk, having no other options. 

 

As he wandered, he took stock. He remembered following the strange femme down into the temple. He remembered her touching his helm. His servo found his helm, feeling the ghost pain still lingering. He realized he was no longer damaged. The injuries he’d gotten from the attack on the docks were gone, he couldn’t even see weld marks. He was also naked. 

 

Jerking, he found himself glancing around again, knowing it wouldn’t change anything. Where was his armor? Who would have taken it? How had he not even  _ felt _ them taking it? This was all too strange. He ran his digits over his chassis, feeling for the hole that had been torn through him by the flying scrap metal. 

 

“I should be in pain…” he said to himself. 

 

“You are.”

 

Orion jerked around to look behind himself. The femme stood just behind him, her servos clasped behind her. 

 

Orion stared down at her, slightly baffled. 

 

“At this moment in time,” she said, “your physical body is still down in the lower levels of the temple. I’m holding your helm so you don’t slam it into the ground. You’ve been screaming for a few joor now. You are in intense pain.”

 

Orion cringed a bit. How could this femme be so blunt about another’s suffering, he thought.

 

“Because you agreed to it,” she said. He jumped. Had he spoken aloud?

 

She smiled up at him slyly. “No. But we are now intertwined with one another. I can hear what your spark says.”

 

“My spark?” 

 

“Yes.  _ You _ are not really here. Neither am I, if we’re being technical. You see, the matrix creates a safe place for each of its primes. The longer you are here, the more it populates. It’s empty right now, because you are new, but as you grow, it’ll become more and more a part of you. You can come here to-”

 

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Orion said, “What do you mean ‘primes’? Enough games! Who are you? Where have you taken me!?”

 

The femme sighed in irritation, as if he wasn’t paying attention. 

 

“I’ve already told you. Your Name is now Optimus. Optimus Prime. This place is inside your helm. You are going through the physical change to become the next prime, and you retreated here after the pain became too overwhelming.” 

 

She finished with a look that left him feeling stupid. 

 

“But… but I’m not a prime.”

 

She dropped her helm with a groan before reaching up and grabbing at his servo, pulling him along. 

 

They didn’t walk for long. Orion was certain he’d already passed this area, but now, instead of nothing, there was a single straight-backed chair. He was unceremoniously shoved into it. He rubbed at his chassis where the femme had planted her servo. She was  _ seriously _ strong. 

 

She moved in front of him and proceeded to sit. In mid air. Orion felt his jaw drop as he stared at her. She glared back. 

 

“I know this is all very jarring,” she started, “but you are the new prime. I am the avatar of the matrix. I am  _ not _ the matrix itself. The matrix is something like a data stick. It holds the collective consciousnesses of the primes past. This can be overwhelming to its current holder, though. It is my job to act as a sort of… filter, if you will. I let what you need to hear through, or direct you to a specific prime if you are in need of them. Think of me as your teacher. I’ve seen it all, and I am a seer. I am the perfect guide.”

 

Orion simply stared. It was too much. This couldn’t be  _ real _ .

 

“It is very real, Optimus,” she said.

 

“Stop that! Stop listening to my thoughts! Get out!” he shouted. He jumped up, the chair knocking over behind him. The sound of it falling was deafening. Pain laced through his helm and he clutched at it. Tears welled up and he became aware of the sound of someone screaming. The screaming grew and grew, until he was screaming along with it. 

 

Then he was back. Fire ripped through his entire frame, and he sobbed as he spasmed. Opening his optics in the too bright room, he saw the femme above him. Holding his helm. The pain struck again and he tossed it back, wailing. He heard his designation being shouted, and managed to glance around. Prowl’s doorwings caught his attention. Yes. He was saved. Prowl would get this insane femme off of him. Away from him. 

 

Prowl tugged at him, clutching his arms, shouting over Orion as the next bout of pain struck and he was screaming again. Orion didn’t remember anything else. It was black again.

 

*****

 

He groaned and clutched at his helm, feeling lighthelmed and sick. At least he was finally free of that crazy-

 

“Not gonna do that again, are you?”

 

She was back. He groaned even louder. 

 

Cracking open his optic lenses, he glared at her.

 

“What do you want? Why are you doing this to me?” he asked.

 

The femme cocked her helm. She was sitting on nothing again. Glancing down, he realized he was back sitting in the chair. No wonder her back plates were so sore. 

 

“I’ve already told you. I am your teacher. I want to teach you about your new role as prime.”

 

“And I’ve already told you, I’m not a prime.”

 

She moved faster that he could even track. One moment, she was sitting in front of him, the next, she had slammed into his chassis, buckling the plating in. The chair didn’t budge, and he found himself pinned painfully against it. He scrabbled at her servo. She stared him down with her white optics that blended too well with her surroundings. Claws unsheathed, causing pricks of pain to dance on his sensors. Her dentae and armor grew sharper and she took on a decidedly more dangerous look.

 

“First lesson, Optimus. You will never say that to me again. It is blasphemy against Primus, and I will punish you for it. You chose this. I gave you the choice. Do you remember? When I asked what you would give? What did you say?”

 

He threw himself to the side, running for all his worth. All it did was bring him back to the pain. He tried to run a total of six times. Each time only brought him further pain. He didn’t see Prowl again. He saw Ratchet twice, and though he’d tried to call out, he’d only managed a strangled, wordless shout. Mostly, it was a bot he’d never seen before, holding him down or tending to his frame. It felt like his plating was splitting from his protoform (he’d later learn that this was more or less the truth). 

 

After his last attempt to run, he could take no more pain. Orion trembled where he satin the chair, mouth opening but no sound coming forth. The femme stood before him still, shouting the same question she had been every time he came back to this white pithole.

 

“What did you say!?!” 

He raked his processor until he remembered, but only after her growl had gone nearly subsonic. 

 

“Th-that I’d do anything…”

 

She stood back, mouth set in a firm line.

 

“Exactly. Like it or not, you chose this. I gave you an out, and despite what you might believe, I know you are the best choice. From now on, you are Optimus Prime. That is how others will address you. That is how you will address yourself. Understood?”

 

The newly dubbed Prime gulped and nodded quickly. 

 

“Good. We’ve got some time still before your body has finished with its physical transformation, and you’ve got a lot to learn about what is coming. So, on to the second lesson,” she pointed to her left. Where there had been nothing before, an alter to Primus stood now. It was a simple thing, but beautiful nonetheless.

 

“Go bow to Primus.”

 

“Go frag yourself.”

 

She’d only smiled.

 

*****

 

It had taken them an embarrassingly long time to find Orion. Prowl had left to get himself something to eat and to find some more data pads for his mentor. When he’d returned, Ratchet had run up to him and told him Orion was missing. He’d been confused to start with. How could he be missing? Where could he have possibly gone when still recovering. Regardless, he’d joined the medic in searching for Orion. He knew that the poor mech got bored being alone all the time, but he was prepared to lecture Orion’s audials off for worrying Ratchet at a time like this. 

 

They’d started at the hastily erected mess hall further into the temple, but no luck. Next had come Dion’s berthside, but the seat had been cool to the touch and no one had seen him there in some time either. After searching every open area of the temple and even questioning the security guard who allowed everyone in and out, Prowl had become truly concerned. He’d found one of the priests and begged the mech to let him look in the restricted areas. 

 

“Please,” Prowl had begged, “He was badly damaged. He might have gotten confused and wandered into a restricted area.”

 

The mech had been skeptical, claiming that all the doors were to remain locked, but had allowed it on the condition that he accompany Prowl in his search.  

 

“I’m not very high up in the temple, and they won’t miss me for a while. But please, remain quiet. Priests are trying to pray.”

 

And together they’d set off.

 

After searching nearly the entire upper wing of the temple, Prowl had began to feel helpless. It must have bled through in his field, because the mech had laid a servo on his shoulder in comfort.

 

“Don’t worry, if your friend is here, he will be recovered.”

 

“But what if he resists help? He might get hurt.”

 

“The temple occupants are accustomed to dealing with mecha who are… unwell. They will not harm him.”

 

“If you say so.” Prowl searched all the harder. 

 

Night fell before long and still nothing. All that was left were the underground tunnels running underneath the temple. The mech led him confidently down.

 

“How do you know so much about this area?” Prowl asked.

 

The mech huffed a small laugh. 

 

“Well, this is how I came to be in this place. You see, I have a rather severe glitch, and I had been in a mental facility from a very young age. My creators were high standing in society, and I was an embarrassment. The facility was… very bad. I ran and crawled through the underbelly of Iacon to get away, but by the time I’d lost them, I realized I’d gotten myself very lost. I ended up down here, and had been living on the raw energon that grows down here. One of the priests had found me and it had caused me to glitch again. They brought me into the temple and nursed me back to health, and once we’ll enough they offered me a home here, and they’ve helped me with my glitch. I’ve never turned back.”

 

“I never would have thought to have gone to a temple…” Prowl said.

 

“Most don’t. And some temples will turn their nasal ridges up at you. But those here are good. That’s why I wouldn’t worry too much about your friend.”

 

“Thank you. For the words of comfort…” he trailed off, realizing something but embarrassed to admit it.

 

“Red Alert,” the mech said.

 

“What?”

 

“My designation is Red Alert.”

 

Prowl stammered, ashamed that he hadn’t asked even though he’d spent the better part of the day in the company of the mech. Red Alert just laughed him off.

 

“It’s all right. You’re worried for your friend. I understand.”

 

It was then that they both heard the screaming.

 

Both had taken off in the direction of the horrible sound. Prowl had already commed Ratchet for help with his location by the time they’d found him. Alone in a cramped and filthy room, Orion lay on a mat, screaming up at the ceiling. Prowl had rushed over, clutching at his friend and trying to snap him out of whatever this was. It wasn’t until a moment later he realized Red Alert hadn’t joined him to help. 

 

Looking over, the mech was bowing, face and chassis pressed up against the floor. He mumbled something repeatedly, sounding like a prayer. 

 

Ratchet and a priest arrived not long after that. The priest had taken one look at Orion, before he’d also thrown himself down, prostrating. More priests came, forcing Prowl and Ratchet out. Red Alert stayed, pressing a cool wet cloth to Orion’s helm and whispering. Ratchet had nearly broken a nasal ridge and Prowl definitely had by the time their words caught up to them. 

 

Their shock had been enough to still them. Then Ratchet opened his mouth.

 

“What do you mean ‘a Prime’!?!”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a bit of a short chapter this week. Sorry about that. If you guys are interested, I’ve started a short side story about Red Alert because someone expressed interest in it last chapter. I’ve connected it to this series. I hope you guys enjoy!

It didn’t take long before Optimus broke down and bowed. While not a particularly religious mech before this whole mess, he knew better than to act so contrary to his own planet god. The femme didn’t hurt him again. In fact, the pain leeched away as soon as he’d given in. As he bowed, the femme spoke and he peeked up at her from his position. She paced in front of the shrine, staying in his line of sight deliberately.

 

“Now, I know that this is a hard thing to accept, but you must. When you wake up, you’re going to need to have all the answers. The priests have already figured out what’s happening, and they’re no doubt explaining to your companions. Your young charge, what was his name? Prowl? He was quite upset.”

 

Optimus looked up, “Is he alright?”

 

She pointed a digit towards the floor and Optimus’ helm dropped back down. 

 

“He’s fine. Just shocked by all that’s happening. I’m going to warn you now, your body is undertaking a massive physical change. When you wake, nothing is ever going to be the same for you again. Stand up. Come over here.”

 

When Optimus raised his helm, he realized there was a new addition to the place they were in. A mirror. He moved towards it.

 

“When did that-”

 

“As I said earlier, this place will populate the longer you are here. Items of comfort will start appearing. Things to help you think. Things to remind you of why you continue on. Give it time, and you’ll be able to control what comes here. Until then, I will help you. Despite our… less than pleasant beginning, I am your friend.”

 

Optimus huffed out a laugh.

 

“So all that pain you put me through? What was that?”

 

“Necessary. You wouldn’t be a good choice to be prime if you didn’t fight for your beliefs. You did not  _ believe _ that you were the new prime, so you fought it until you couldn’t anymore. I don’t think all the fight is really out of you still. But I like that about you. The last prime was insane, not a good pick on my part.”

 

Optimus stared at her for a moment. Finally, a thought struck him.

 

“What… what is your designation?”

 

She stopped and turned to him surprised.

 

“What’s that?” 

 

“What do I call you? You’ve never given me a designation. Just ‘friend’ or ‘teacher’.”

 

She glanced down for a moment, as though lost in thought. When she looked back up, she was smiling.

 

“I can’t remember the last time someone asked me that.”

 

That struck Optimus as sad for some reason. 

 

“I’ve been called many different names,” she continued, “some of which are so old they aren’t even pronounceable anymore. I suppose it’s time for a new name. Something simple this time. Unassuming.”

 

She came and stood behind him, glancing herself over in the mirror. 

 

“Honeybee. Simple. Something that others won’t think of as threatening. Yes. That will do. You may call me Honeybee. Now then, let’s get you prepared for everything that you’ll be facing when you wake up. We’ve not got much time left.”

 

And so she spoke, and Optimus listened. 

 

*****

 

Prowl sat by his mentors side once again. He wasn’t sure he could keep this up. First the docks and now this. Orion had… changed. The temple priests hadn’t let them come to him for so long, and he and Ratchet had still been able to hear the screaming. It had stopped a few joor ago, and when they’d been let in, Prowl had almost thought there was a mistake. 

 

Orion had… grown. His entire body had elongated, his colors had deepened. The injuries he’d gotten in the docks attack were gone. There weren’t even scars. His face looked older, if that were possible. Could a mech age with pain? Thinking back on his own past, he could believe it. 

 

Reaching out, he took Orion’s servo in his own. Pressing his lips to his mentors knuckles, he said a short prayer. Primus hadn’t helped him much throughout his life, but he’d given him Orion, and Prowl would pray for him. 

 

He almost missed it when Orion’s optics opened. The servo Prowl had been holding shifted, and gently cupped his cheek. 

 

“Prowl,” he croaked, vocalizer static filled. 

 

Before Prowl could respond, the priests were there. They swarmed, voices rising up and calling to him. Orion glanced over at them, his optics trailing over the mecha gathered, before landing on Red Alert. The mechs optics were cycled as wide as they would go. He looked terrified. 

 

Orion pointed at him. 

 

“You,” he said, “you were with Prowl. Your designation is… Red Alarm?”

 

He stepped forward, bowing awkwardly. 

 

“Red Alert, My Prime.”

 

Red Alert froze when he looked up to see his new prime smiling at him. 

 

“Optimus. My designation is Optimus Prime.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the wait y'all! It's been absolutely insane and two of my students were killed in a shooting this week so I've been a bit preoccupied. It was nice to write and forget. Here's a bit of a longer chapter to make up for my lateness.

_ Six Vorn Later _

 

Optimus sighed and leaned back in his chair, completely exhausted and done with the orn. He turned and looked out of the floor to ceiling windows. Almost one hundred stories below, the people of Iacon went about their business.  _ His  _ people. Technically, every cybertronian was his, but this was his home city. He missed the docks. He missed going to the bar and socializing. Pits, he missed grocery shopping. Now, he was far too recognizable. And he had people for that. It sucked.

 

“Well, if it isn’t the palace pet! I can’t believe they let you off your chain long enough to come to your own office.”

 

He turned away from the window, leveling a glare at Honeybee. 

 

“Hello, teacher. To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked.

 

She smiled brightly at him as she moved to sit on top of his desk. 

 

“Now, Optimus. I’ve told you a million times to just call me Honeybee.”

 

Optimus humphed, looking unconvinced.

 

“The last time I called you that, you threw an energon cube at the back of my helm and I was stuck explaining to the counsel how I had gotten dried energon down my back and aft.”

 

Honeybee threw her helm back and laughed.

 

“You did look pretty funny,” she said.

 

“Why do you even drink energon? Don’t you get all the energy you need from the matrix?” Optimus asked.

 

“Eh,” she shrugged, “It’s something to do. It gets boring being stuck in there all the time.” 

 

A knock at the door sounded. Optimus sighed for what seemed like the thousandth time that orn. Straightening out of the slump he’d fallen into, he turned towards the door and pinged it to open. 

 

Red Alert stood there, fidgeting. As he entered, his optics cast around the room nervously. He’d been serving Optimus almost since the large mech had woken up from the traumatic physical changes his body had undertaken. Red Alert and he had gotten to know one another as Optimus had been recovering. He had done everything from oiling joints to helping Optimus bathe. 

 

Optimus still blushed at the memory of the mech trying to help him clean his interface equipment. But as he’d recovered, and when Prowl or Ratchet were out of the room, Red Alert had not left his side, waiting on Optimus servo and pede. Optimus had finally wringed his story out of him, but not before literal orns worth of careful conversation. The poor mech truly had a tragic backstory.

 

“Red Alert, hello! Come in. I hope you are well this orn?” he asked.

 

Red Alert came to stand before his desk. Honeybee slipped off down and came to stand next to Optimus. 

 

“Careful,” she whispered into his audial. His mind. “He’s upset about something.”

 

“Sir, we have information suggesting that the Decepticons are mobilizing in the southern quadrant of Kaon. We believe they are preparing to mount an attack.” He cringed as Optimus leaned forward, giving him his full attention.

 

Optimus caught himself before he sighed. Red Alert was brilliant when it came to defenses, but the poor mech had been damaged. Once he’d recovered, the counsel had wasted no time in trying to push their own agenda on him. Those in power when he’d come in had been largely corrupt, and in the past vorn, he’d been very careful with who he placed in important positions. 

 

Prowl had immediately been promoted to the Head of the Enforcers after the old one had been discovered dealing enforcer grade weapons on the black market. Prowl had not been a popular mech for some time, but he’d proven himself over and over again. Even if they didn’t  _ like  _ him, they’d finally began to respect him. 

 

Ratchet had was still hated across the board by anyone who came into contact with, but the mech was brilliant and it was like he’d been made to be the chief medical officer. Optimus hadn’t seen him smile so much in vorn.

 

Looking down at the anxious young mech in front of him, he felt a bit sad. Red Alert was a wonderful security director, and Optimus trusted him explicitly, but he knew the mech still felt obligated to do whatever he said. It had taken the better part of the first vorn they’d known one another for Red Alert to stop ‘presenting himself for punishment’ every time he had to deliver bad news. Any negative reaction on Optimus’ part might trigger the poor mech into his glitch acting up, and so Optimus tread as lightly as he could. 

 

“Take a seat. Tell me what we know so far, Red Alert. Do you have any plans off the top of your helm about how we might prepare?”

 

Red Alert seemed to perk up then, launching into details of his plans. The mech responded well to positive encouragement, and he seemed to forget some of his insecurities when he was able to help and be listened to. Optimus settled in, Honeybee whispering advice to him as always. So much for getting to his berth on time tonight.

 

*****

 

Prowl heard Ironhide’s bellowing laughter long before he ever passed through the doorway. He hadn’t trusted the mech when they’d first met. Prowl had encountered his type before. Strong and surely and entirely inappropriate when they drank high grade. They always hit the hardest when they felt disrespected, which he’d always somehow managed to be when he’d still been a slave. When they’d been introduced to one another by Optimus, the mech had looked him up and down before claiming he’d have to put aside time to train him ‘properly’. Prowl would have punched the mech then and there had Optimus not subtly clamped his servo around his arm. 

 

“He has no respect for me, Optimus! How are we supposed to work so closely with each other if he won’t even take into account my training with the enforcers?!” he’d asked.

 

Optimus had leveled a look at him that suggested he was tired of hearing this. He probably was. Prowl had fussed about it more times than even he could remember. 

 

“Have you considered he is waiting for you to prove yourself?” Optimus asked.

 

“What do I have to prove?! He should be proving himself to me! I am the one who knows best what to expect!” 

 

“He’s been at this for a very long time, Prowl. You can’t deny his record speaks for itself…”

 

“And how do we know we can trust this mech? He could be anyone! He could be in contact with anyone! If you’d just let me tap his comms…” Prowl muttered.

 

“You’re not tapping his comms, Prowl. Primus! You’re starting to sound like Red Alert!” 

 

Prowl thought for a moment. 

 

“Do you think Red Alert might be able to get some dirt on him?”

 

Optimus slapped his servos down on his desk in frustration. 

 

“Out, Prowl! I don’t want to see you here again until you’ve gotten over this thing with Ironhide! You’re not a youngling anymore, so act like it!” 

 

Prowl pretended that the glossa lashing didn’t sting as he left.

 

*****

 

Prowl sat moodily in his seat in the meeting room, directly across from Ironhide. You wouldn’t know unless you knew him well, and Prowl pretended that he didn’t notice Optimus’ glaring optics. He was not acting like a youngling. Ironhide was just stupid. 

 

As the meeting let out, he mentally prepared for the lecture that he was sure to come from Optimus in the transport ride back to the palace. The crowds cheered as they exited the building, and Prowl stuck to his mentor’s side, with Ironhide on the other. Like Optimus needed him and his ‘protecting’.

 

He got into the transport first, waiting for Optimus to join him after he’d spoken to the people. He turned, ready to rise to his defense, only to snap his mouth shut when Ironhide sat down next to him. 

 

“What are you doing in here!? Where is Optimus?” he all but shouted.

 

Ironhide laughed, “Kid, first rule of keepin’ yer charge alive, don’t let them ride in the main transport. It’s the one that’s always targeted first.” 

 

“So where is he?”

 

“Already halfway to the palace,” he glanced at Prowl sideways, “I wanted to have a chat with you while we’re alone.”

 

Prowl forced down the sudden surge of panic at being so close. But he’d had far too many ‘private chats’ to be able to completely control the knee jerk reaction. He flinched when the mech laughed again. Was he always this loud?

 

“Relax, mech. I ain’t gonna hurt ya. But I do wanna know why you seem to think I’m out to getcha. What’d I ever do ta you?” he asked.

 

Prowl glared.

 

“Nothing.”

 

The transport lurched into motion as they finally began the trip back to the palace. 

 

“Then why is it that every time I enter the same room as you, your wings hitch up like-”

 

“I do not  _ hitch  _ my wings,” Prowl hissed.

 

“Oh, ya do! Ya act like I’m some kind of plague! What’s your problem with me?” Ironhide demanded.

 

Prowl whipped his helm around to face him. 

 

“There are plenty of reasons! You are completely full of yourself, you don’t have any concept of personal space, you’re loud, you always smell like used rifle cartridges, and you have no right to be Optimus’ bodyguard!”

 

“Because you’d do a better job of it?” Ironhide asked mildly.

 

“Yes!”

 

Prowl’s optics shot wide at the realization of what he’d said.

 

Ironhide smiled widely at him.

 

Prowl turned his back and stared out of the window miserably. Behind him, he heard Ironhide chuckle over the backup of traffic and how it seemed they’d be here for a while.

 

The piece of slag.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter, but I wanted to give y'all something since I’ve been trying to update every Sunday. Hope y’all enjoy!

Optimus sat quietly in his quarters, waiting for Prowl to come to him. When Ironhide had approached him with the request of riding home with Prowl alone, he’d almost declined. The thought made him chuckle to himself. Even after all these vorn, even after Prowl had become an  _ enforcer _ , he still found himself being overly protective of the young mech. 

 

It had been a long time since Prowl had creeped into his berth for comfort after a nightmare. It had been even longer since Prowl had been frightened of him. But the memory of Prowl being so scared of him, expecting him to do what others had done to him still haunted him. 

 

Honeybee helped, though he wasn’t sure what she’d actually done. It was like his memories of those times had been...dulled. Not forgotten, but manageable.

 

Ever since his change into the prime of the planet, Prowl’s attitude towards him had shifted. He’d become overly protective, and at first Optimus had been flattered. Then, it had shifted to a smothering feeling. When he’d been introduced to Ironhide, the matrix had pulsed happily, Honeybee whispering that this one was good. 

 

Ironhide was a nice change, all things considered. The mech always spoke his mind, never mincing words. He was one of the very few who spoke to Optimus like he was just another mech. He was the only one of those few who hadn’t known Optimus before his change. Optimus trusted him, and he trusted the mech to be gentle when speaking with Prowl. He hadn’t gone into detail about his charges past, that wasn’t his place, but he’d made Ironhide aware that it wasn’t necessarily personal. Prowl simply didn’t trust many mecha.

 

Harsh knocking sounded at his door. He braced himself for the coming storm that Prowl had no doubt been cooking up in that processor of his since Ironhide had gotten into the transport with him. 

 

Red Alert entered, looking frantic.

 

Startled, Optimus shifted in his seat, leaning forward.

 

“Red Alert. What’s the matter?”

 

Red Alert clutched his servos together.

 

“My Prime. The transport line was attacked by the Decepticons. A number of our mecha have been taken.”

 

Optimus felt his tanks drop. 

 

“Prowl,” he whispered, dread sweeping through him.

 

Red Alert must have thought he’d been asking about him.

 

“He and Ironhide have been reported as captured, Sir. The Decepticons must be wanting a ransom, but they haven’t contacted us yet.”

 

Optimus was out of his chair and through the door before Red Alert had even finished speaking. Barking orders, he tried to mask his fear. He’d get them back. Whatever it took, he’d get them back.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being late this week! Hopefully this makes up for it!

Prowl came around slowly, as he usually did after a particularly nasty crash, but this time he felt different. His helm hurt far more than normal, and the side of his face itched with what he realized was dried blood. Had he fallen and no one had found him?

 

The answer came to him when he finally onlined his optics. 

 

Oh no…

 

Surging forward, he tried to stand, only for his arms to twist painfully behind him and bring his back crashing back against the wall. He felt like his servos should be hurting, but they were too numbed by lack of energon flow to register anything. 

 

“Hey, calm down. Yer okay,” a voice next to him said. 

 

Oh Primus, why him?

 

Turning, he faced Ironhide and glared. Ironhide was shackled the same way he was, his servos pinned tightly by the cuffs that were directly welded to the wall behind them. They sat side by side, their pedes stretched out in front of them. Prowl made a face as he registered something wet and sticky on his aft where he had been placed. 

 

Ironhide looked far worse for wear than he did. His left optic had been shattered, leaving it dark and half shuttered. His chassis was discolored and slightly warped, suggesting he had been on the side the missile had impacted the transport. He winced as the cuffs forced him to raise his arms, one of his shoulders was pushed higher than the other. Dislocated joint. Prowl felt a brief stab of pity for the mech. He might not like him, but he didn’t want the mech to just sit there suffering. 

 

Despite everything, the Ironhide seemed more concerned with him.

 

“Are you alright?” Ironhide asked.

 

Prowl nodded and tried to sit straighter, wincing. He felt fairly certain that his doorwing had been dislocated as well. Perfect.

 

“I’m functional. Where are we? Do you have any idea?” he asked.

 

“No clue. I woke up while they were bringing us here. It’s fraggin’ cold out. We must be down near Kaon, if not in the city.”

 

“We were out that long?” Prowl asked, incredulous.

 

Ironhide nodded.

“My chrono is still functional. We were out for the better part of the orn. They blindfolded me, when they brought us in, but it was loud. I think we’re underground. I’ve been listening and I can’t hear much anymore.”

 

Prowl stared at him for a moment. Frag it all but he had to admit maybe Ironhide wasn’t completely useless. 

 

“You heard noise? What sort of noise?” he asked.

 

“Cheering. It reminded me of the race tracks in Iacon. I think we’re under some sort of stadium,” Ironhide said.

 

Prowl thought for a moment. Sighing, he turned towards the door.

 

“Well, we will just have to wait to see what they have planned for us and figure out what to do then,” he said. 

 

Ironhide turned to him suddenly.

 

“What?! What do ya mean ‘wait’? I thought you were the one with the fancy processor!”

 

Prowl glared at him, remembering his frustration with this mech.

 

“I do have an upgraded processor, but I can’t use it to its full ability without more information. I can’t just come up with a plan from nothing!” 

 

Ironhide simply grunted and turned his helm away from Prowl to glare daggers at the wall. 

 

Prowl stared straight ahead. He was going to strangle Optimus when he got them out of this. 

 

*****

 

They stayed like that for a long time. Ironhide didn’t bother to tell Prowl that it had to be well into the night. The mech would ask if he wanted to know. He glanced towards the Praxian, noting the mechs set jaw. He was pretty sure he hadn’t moved once since they’d finished speaking. 

 

Ironhide shifted again, trying to alleviate the throbbing pain shooting through his shoulder. Primus but he hurt. 

 

Just when he felt certain he was going to fall into recharge from the sheer boredom of being left for so long, the door opened. Ironhide didn’t recognize the rotary mech striding towards them with a swagger, but he knew Prowl did. 

 

The Praxian had stiffened beside him the moment his optics had landed on the mech. Vents suddenly opened to their fullest, Ironhide could feel Prowl’s respirations speeding up. Glancing over, he noted Prowl’s wide optics and parted mouth.

 

He was afraid.

 

Ironhide didn’t think he’d ever seen such an expression on the stern young mechs face before. Unease grew in the pit of his tanks. 

 

“Well! What a pleasant surprise!” the mech said, clapping his servos together, “The Prime’s personal guard and whore!”

 

The mech crouched down in front of Prowl, reaching up and snatching his chevron to push his helm back against the wall. 

 

“What are you doing out of the Prime’s berth, little whore?” he mock whispered. 

 

Prowl’s helm creaked as pressure was put on it. He whimpered. Oh yes, Ironhide thought, something was definitely wrong here.

  
  


*****

 

Prowl didn’t dare open his mouth. He was sure he’d scream if he did. It wasn’t possible. But he was right there.

 

Blackout. 

 

His first master had aged visibly since he had last seen the mech. His rotor wings flexed and twitched in obvious excitement. Pressing his helm even harder against the wall, error messages began to flood Prowl’s HUD, and pain laced up from his neck. It wasn’t until his crest had begun to crack that his master let him go. 

 

Slumping forward, Prowl blinked his optics to try to clear the static.

 

“Tell me, Prowl. Did you really think I wouldn’t find you? After you went and broke my spark and ran away? Did you think I’d just give up on giving you the punishment you so badly deserve?” he asked.

 

Fear coursed through Prowl at those words. He remembered his masters punishment far too well to feel anything but.

 

Ironhide apparently had had enough. 

 

“Leave ‘im alone ya piece of slag!” Ironhide shouted, “He doesn’t know anything of value so you can just-”

 

Blackout moved so fast Prowl didn’t even see it. Pain shocked through him as Blackout punched him hard on his nasal ridge. Energon sprayed out and down his lips as his helm cracked back against the wall once again. He gagged on his own blood. 

 

“Shut up, you!” his master screamed at Ironhide.

 

After delivering a kick to Ironhide’s midsection, he turned back to Prowl. Reaching into his subspace with one servo, he withdrew a syringe. Prowl began to thrash, only for Blackout to wrap his free servo around his throat tightly. Manipulating Prowl’s helm to expose his delicate throat wires, he plunged the needle into his main line. 

 

Prowl felt heavy suddenly. His vision swam and he slumped forward. He felt his master reach over him and release him from his restraints, but he couldn’t manage to lift his arms after they dropped down. He felt himself being moved as Blackout slung him over his shoulder. He was so close to his rotors. If he could just pull on them hard enough to hurt him…

 

Blackout took a moment to fondle his aft appreciatively before turning and making his way out of the room. 

 

“Make sure I’m undisturbed for the night. I need some time to reacquaint myself with this one and make sure he learns a lesson,” Blackout said.

 

“A lesson, Sir?” a voice asked. A guard, Prowl thought. They must have posted a guard outside the door. His vision continued to darken gradually around the edges. 

 

“Yes. A lesson in thinking that he could get away from his owner.”

 

A laugh, then, “What about the other one?”

 

It was almost completely black now. Primus he was so tired.

 

“Let him be the prize of tonight's show. The winner of the death match gets him as their new personal slave. Lord Megatron has already decided they aren’t of any use, so why not?”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

Prowl dropped into nothingness. 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo hoo! On time this week! Here’s a bit of a longer chapter. Hope you guys enjoy!

“He’s really big. I think he turns into a truck! What do you think?”

 

“Maybe. Why’s he got to be  _ red _ , though?”

 

“I’m red!”

 

“I know. Now, I’ve got two red idiots to take care of.”

 

“Nu uh! You don’t hafta take care of us anymore! We’ve got this mech to do it now!”

 

Primus, but Ironhide was tired of waking up from stasis lock. Keeping his optics offline and his helm bowed, he subtly flexed his arms and legs. Yup. Restrained tightly enough that he’d have to make some real noise to get out of them. A quick self diagnostic proved that he had no new damage at least. When the guard had come in with the emf weapon, he’d feared the worst. At least he hadn’t been offlined yet. Now to find out where he was now…

 

“Why do you think he’s not got a modesty panel on?”

 

What?

 

Ironhide snapped his optics on and was afforded the view of his valve modesty panel indeed missing. Primus’s left lug nut this was bad. His legs were spread obscenely, with each of his pedes restrained to the legs of the chair he was sitting on. His servos were strapped behind his back. Steeling himself, he fixed his nastiest scowl on his faceplates and looked up. His mouth dropped.

 

The only difference between the two little ones were their helms. And their colors. One sat with his pedes dangling off the berth, crossed tightly at the ankles. His golden armor was chipped and scuffed, but shone otherwise. His helm fins were large and framed his faceplates and the glare seemed far too intense for one so young. 

 

The other seemed to be his polar opposite, yet the same as well. He was red, though not Ironhide’s exact shade. His audial nubs were tiny and underdeveloped, which was normal for this age. One was deeply scratched and bleeding, but the little one didn’t seem to mind. He sat cross legged on the berth next to his twin, giving Ironhide a goofy little smile. 

 

They were both covered in mech blood, and Ironhide didn’t think much of it was theirs. Primus but they couldn’t even be in their last youngling frame before they were formatted into adults. Maybe their second to last youngling frames. Maybe. 

 

Red leaned forward. 

 

“You got a designation or do we have to name you? We don’t wanna call you ‘slave’. There’s too many other mechs here called that.”

 

Gold scoffed. 

 

“What would we name him?” he asked his brother. Red turned to him.

 

“I dunno! Something cool though, like Kickaft or Hardaft. Something with ‘aft’ in it,” he said.

 

Ironhide shook himself before regaining his voice.

 

“Mah designation is Ironhide,” he said. 

 

Twin gazes snapped back to him. 

 

“ _ That’s _ your designation? Was your carrier drunk when they named you?” Gold asked.

 

Ironhide stared at him for a moment with slitted optics. Little punk aft kid.

 

Red chose that moment to hop down from the berth and approach him. Reaching up, he jabbed a digit into Ironhide’s cheek. 

 

“How old are you?” he asked, “You look really old. Are you a soldier? Can you fight?”

 

Ironhide opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off by Gold.

 

“Of course he’s a soldier. Just not a good one. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been captured and made our slave,” he told his brother.

 

Red was about to answer when Ironhide butted in.

 

“Look, younglin’s, I need to get out of here. I’ve got a friend here, an’ he’s in a lot of danger. Do ya think you could untie me so I can go look fer him?” 

 

They were younglings. Maybe they weren’t too corrupted by their surroundings. 

 

“We can’t do that,” Red said.

 

Fraggit all.

 

“Why not?” he asked.

 

“Because the masters will have our plating if we let you run around unsupervised,” Gold said, “Besides, you’re ours now. You have to do what we say.”

 

“Don’t worry,” Red said, “We’ll be nice to you and all! We won’t hit you or anything! You can even recharge on the extra berth! Me and Sunny always share.”

 

Standing and joining his brother, Gold lifted a polishing rag in front of Ironhide’s faceplates. Red shifted behind him to begin untying his servos.

 

“You are going to clean our frames for us and you’ll treat Sideswipe’s audio nub. Once you’re done with that, we’ll figure out something else for you to do, and for Primus’ sake, cover your valve up. I don’t want to have to look at-”

 

The last of the ropes binding him came loose and he swept forward in an instant. Catching both younglings around their middles, he lifted them and slammed them down onto the berth. Both grunted, but we’re unharmed. Stunned, but unharmed. As they flailed to right themselves, Ironhide turned to the door that had been behind him. The room was tiny, and he felt slightly bad about kicking the door off its hinges, but he had to find Prowl. 

 

Running down the hall, he evaded grasping servos and shocked mechs, hearing the youngling twins shouts of outrage growing distant behind him.

 

*****

 

Prowl snapped back to awareness and almost immediately wished he hadn’t. Splayed on his back plates, his wings registered the plush berth beneath him. He was far more concerned by the restraints forcing his arms and legs to stretch farther than was comfortable. His chassis heaved as he realized he’d been completely stripped of his plating. Even his spark plates were gone. 

 

A chuckle drew his attention to Blackout, who was standing at the end of the berth. He slowly began to walk around to Prowl’s side, a wicked dagger slowly tracing up his leg, before he stopped and made circling patterns across Prowl’s belly. He didn’t put enough pressure to cut his protoform, but it was a very clear warning. 

 

“I’ve missed you so much, Prowl. It feels like a part of my spark has been incomplete without you to play with. And look at you! You’re so pretty in your adult frame. Makes me almost wish I’d waited to take your seals…” he said.

 

Prowl chassis heaved with shaking gusts from his vents. The knife traced up from his midsection and tapped gently on the bottom edge of his spark chamber. Prowl stilled, holding his ventilations when he felt the tip of the blade so close to his life force. 

 

“But I can’t say I regret it…” 

 

Prowl felt like purging. 

 

The blade returned to its slow movement across his body. 

 

“I hope you know that this is very personal for me, Prowl. You  _ ran away _ from me. For that, I’m afraid I’ve got to make you suffer. I need to make an example of you. I need to make you scream.”

 

The knife began to press against his hip. 

 

*****

 

Ironhide sprinted as hard as he could, arms pumping and vents huffing. Surprisingly, the two youngling twins were close on his aft. At first, he’d thought that he’d lost them when their voices had faded behind him, but they’d apparently just stopped yelling to save their ventilations for running. 

 

Catching himself on a door frame, he looked through and smiled. The flight of stairs was where they’d brought him in, he was sure of it. 

 

Two small but surprisingly hefty frames crashed into him at the same time from behind. He couldn’t even let out a yell as they all tumbled down. 

 

At the end of their decent, Ironhide’s helm cracked sharply against the floor. His optics frizzed for a moment, and when he finally was able to make sense of his surroundings, he looked up. The twins were both on their knees in front of him, their backs to him. Looking past them, he saw the guard with the whip. The mech was uncoiling it, obviously preparing to use it on the little ones. 

 

Primus, they were only younglings.

 

He shoved his servo underneath himself, trying to push himself up. A gentle touch running up from his lower back had him jumping in surprise. He turned to look, and was saw the smallest femme he’d ever thought he’d seen in his life. She crouched next to his helm, leaning down to mock whisper to him, her white optics shining brightly.

 

“You might want to stay down. It’s about to get messy.”

 

He snapped his gaze forward when Red yelled. The guard snatched his wrist in a too tight grip, turning him roughly so that his back was presented to the whip. Gold lurched forward to wrestle against the mech.

 

Then the wall next to them exploded. 

 

The twins flew back to land just in front of Ironhide. The guard was crushed beneath the collapsed wall. More explosions rocked the ground beneath them, and Ironhide moved on reflex. Belly crawling forward, he pulled the younglings to lay beneath him, letting his thicker armor weather the raining debris. They screamed in union, both clutching tightly to his chassis. 

 

Ironhide turned to look back, ready to shield the femme as well, but the hallway was empty. Gunfire sounded nearby, and he hugged the younglings tighter to him. Wherever she’d gone, he hoped she was okay. He had other things to worry about now.

 

*****

 

The knife sliced through his hip when the first explosion rocked the room they were in. Blackout fell forward, bracing himself on the table. Their faceplates were inches from one another. Prowl took his chance. If he was going to die, he’d at least make the mech hurt for a while.

 

Snapping his helm upward, he struck his old masters nasal ridge with the wide end of his chevron. Mech blood stained his face as Blackout reared back, the servo not holding the knife coming up to clutch at his face. 

 

“You little gli’ch! You broke mah nasa’ rid’!” he screamed in fury. 

 

He stepped forward, knife raised high over his helm, insanity clear in his optics. 

 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” 

 

The voice seemed to resonate throughout the room, but sound quiet at the same time. Both Prowl and Blackout looked to the door. A small yellow femme stood, arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe. 

 

“The frag are you?!” Blackout said.

 

The femme seemed uninterested in his puffed plating. 

 

“No one of importance. I’m a messenger, if you will. One you want to listen very carefully to…” she said.

 

Blackout stared at her for a moment, “What?”

 

Rolling her optics, she pushed herself off of the doorframe and began to slowly circle around to the end of the table that Prowl lay on. 

 

“You have three options, Blackout,” she said.

 

“How do you know my-”

 

“One,” she held up a digit, “You stab Prowl here through the spark. It offlines him instantly, no pain. After that, you run to your ship and attempt to fly away. Unfortunately, the Autobot forces currently ransacking this gladiator pit sees you and shoots you out of the sky. In the resulting crash, your leg is pinned and you die once you piloting console explodes and sends shrapnel into your face.”

 

Another digit comes up.

 

“Two. You take your time craving up poor, little Prowl here. His screams alert Ironhide, the mech captured with him who also happens to be just down the hall, to your location and he catches you in the act.  Ironhide incapitates you and once he realizes he can’t save Prowl, turns on you. He inflicts his own bit of justice and you offline screaming and drowning in your own blood. The medics try to save Prowl, but he unfortunately offlines in a very painful manner, just as you intended.”

 

She stops next to Prowl’s pedes and about faces to Blackout, her servos coming behind her back and clasping together. 

 

“Three. You run. Right now. You go to the main hangar and make off with a ship there and escape in the chaos, because the Autobots haven’t gotten around to that side of the compound just yet. Prowl lives to fight another orn, but so do you. Now tell me, do you really want to offline in this attempt at revenge against Prowl? Or do you want to keep living with the chance of catching him again at a later date?”

 

Her blue optics flickered wildly to a vivid white, outlining a wicked smile. 

 

After a moment of consideration, Blackout turned and ran out of the room. 

 

Prowl let out a vent he hadn’t realized he was holding in. Then he looked to the femme who had jumped up to sit beside his pede. She turned and smiled at him. 

 

They stared at one another for a moment, before he gave the cuffs holding his servos up over his helm a little rattle. 

 

“Aren’t you going to help me out of these?” he asked.

 

She patted his thigh. 

 

“Sorry, I can’t really touch things the way you can. I’m actually not even  _ really _ here.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.

 

“Mecha don’t usually see me unless they’re about to become a Prime or they’re offlining,” she said, as if that explained everything. 

 

“So, you’re saying I’m about to become a Prime? What about Optimus?”

 

Primus, why was he even going along with this crazy conversation?

 

The femme laughed.

 

“No! No, Optimus is settling in just fine.”

 

“So, what? Are you saying I’m offline? Is this my introduction to the Well?”

 

“No. Not yet. But you should probably know that he knocked a main line in your leg when the bombs hit. You’re bleeding out,” she pointed down to his thigh. 

 

He followed with his gaze. Mech blood pumped heavily out of his leg, and he suddenly felt light helmed. 

 

“You should probably scream. Otherwise they won’t find you in time. See you around, Prowl.”

 

He snapped his helm back up to look at her, and was startled to see the room was empty except for him. Looking around wildly, panic set in. He began to thrash in his restraints. 

 

Opening his mouth, he screamed for help.

 

*****

 

In the palace of Iacon, mecha were in a flurry. Intelligence reports streamed in real time, and the normally quiet halls were so loud one could hardly think. 

 

A chair sat empty in the middle of the communications room. Red Alert glanced at it worriedly, before snatching up his personally inscripted datapad (it never hurt to be careful) and setting it to receive remote updates. Walking briskly from the room, he soon found himself in front of the Prime’s personal chambers. He knocked twice. 

 

Receiving no response, he bypassed the door code and cautiously poked his helm through the door. 

 

“My Prime, sir? I have an update from the raid that I think you’ll want to hear… My Prime?”

 

A sound from the washracks had him slipping further into the suite. Coming around the massive berth, he knocked lightly at the door.

 

“My Prime?” he asked.

 

A crashing sound came from inside and he jumped, about to force his way in until he heard a voice call out.

 

“What is it, Red Alert?!” Optimus called out.

 

“My Prime? Are you alright?” 

 

“I’m fine! What is it?!” Optimus shouted, sounding strained. 

 

“Umm,” Red Alert straightened despite not being physically present before Optimus, “We’ve just received word from the raid teams down in Kaon, Sir. Prowl has been recovered, but has sustained critical wounds. The medics are tending to him now and we are awaiting results.”

 

A pause long enough for Red Alert to nearly call out again, then,

 

“And Ironhide?”

 

“He has been recovered with only light injuries. Nothing requiring surgery, at least. He is also in the possession of…” Primus how did he word this, “a pair of youngling twins. He refuses to be separated from them, but we think they were actual gladiators. The command staff are wanting instructions from you on how to proceed with handling the situation, Sir.”

 

Barking down the comms demanding orders, more like. Their orders had been clear, place all gladiators in custody until they could be properly processed. Unfortunately there had been no instructions on how to handle younglings. Ironhide’s refusal to allow them to be restrained also put a kink in things as they’d reported attacked two mecha. One of them had also reportedly bitten off one of  _ Ironhide’s _ digits and he still refused to let them be taken from him. It was an overall major slag show.

 

A cough from the washracks, brought his attention back to the Prime. 

 

“I’ll deal with it in a while, Red Alert. Thank you for the update.” Optimus said.

 

Red Alert stared at the door for a moment, jaw hanging open. 

 

“But, Sir! We need you to-”

 

“In a while, Red Alert!” Optimus snapped, “Now please leave me be for a bit. I’ll be out soon!”

 

Red Alert left the Prime’s chambers huffing in offense, pride stinging. Walking back to the communications room, he pondered how he was going to tell the soldiers that they needed to continue to  _ wait _ for orders. He also briefly pondered what had crawled up Optimus’ aft for him to be so-

 

He shook himself. The Prime was Primus chosen and he had no right to think ill of him. Sending a quick prayer to Primus for forgiveness, he approached the communications room. 

 

Back to the grinder it seemed.

 

*****

 

Optimus clutched the waste receptacle and heaved into it violently. Condensation poured off of his overheated frame, and he rested his cheek against the rim. His spark felt like it was trying to escape from his frame. Speaking to Red Alert through the door while simultaneously trying to keep his rebelling tanks from expelling waste out of every available hole in his body had taken everything he’d had. 

 

Suddenly, a chill swept through his frame so strongly he nearly screamed. 

 

Honeybee sent soothing pulses throughout his body, apology clear as she stroked his raging field and calmed him. He purged again, this time not even able to turn his helm into the receptacle. Partially filtered energon splatted against his chassis and legs. Once finished, he lay back on the tile, shivering violently. She took him then.

 

Opening his optics, he lay on the berth in his helmscape. Honeybee sat beside him, gently stroking his helm. 

 

“Where were you?!” he tried to shout. 

 

It came out as a whisper.

 

“I know. I’m sorry. It had to be done. Your mecha wouldn’t have made it in time if I hadn’t interfered.”

 

“Interfered with what?” he asked. 

 

“It’s not important. Rest, love. I’ll help you push through the next few jours. Draw strength from me, okay?”

 

Optimus nodded, too weak to argue, though he could feel his physical frame moving through the motions of showering with Honeybee’s help. He’d need to be present in himself when he left his rooms, but for now he let her move him about. 

 

The first time she’d moved his body for him, he’d been unnerved. To see his own body moved around like some puppet was strange, but he’d grown accustomed to it by now. Honeybee never took advantage. She only helped. Over the vorns, he’d grown to care deeply for her, and she him. She was his safe place. 

 

Eventually, he had to leave his rooms, and he did so tiredly. Honeybee stayed with him, hovering at the edge of his mind like always. 

 

_ Prowl will be alright. They got to him in time, _ she said.

 

_ Good, I’m glad. Is that what you were doing?  _ he thought back to her.

 

_ Partially, _ she responded _.  _

 

That didn’t raise any red flags at all…

 

_ I should warn you though,  _ she whispered as he came into the communications room. If anyone noticed his overbright optics and drawn expression, they didn’t comment.

 

“Updates?” he asked the room.

 

_ Ironhide wants to adopt the twins he found. You should let him. Trust me. _

 

The room erupted into sound as the very mech stormed through the doors, apparently having just gotten off of the transport. Three guards followed, weapons drawn. 

 

His friend’s face was bloody and twisted in frustration. Tucked underneath his arms, he tightly held two struggling younglings. One was gnawing with sharp dente on Ironhide’s wrist, the other was screaming expletives and kicking wildly. 

 

“Prime! We need ta talk!”

 

Optimus almost turned and walked back to his chambers then and there. 


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long for me to update! Life hit me like train and I’ve still got my homework for grad school due on the first, but here’s a chapter for you guys until after next month! I hope you enjoy!   
> On a separate note, if you’re confused by the part with Red Alert, you'll need to read my smaller piece on here to help you understand better.   
> Ok bye!

The raid had caught them all by surprise, but once the floor had stopped shaking beneath them, the twins had pushed themselves away from Ironhide. Scooting back on their afts, they’d clutched at one another, staring at him as he struggled to get up after being struck by debris over and over. For a moment, all he’d been able to do was vent and try to keep from passing out. Again.

 

Then he heard Prowl scream.

 

The sound had chilled him to his struts. He’d never heard Prowl scream before. Not even when he’d dislocated his doorwing in combat training. 

 

Lurching up, he’d run towards the source of the cry. His comms flared to life about that time, overwhelming him with noise that came with open comms during a raid. Coming through the door of one of the chambers, he gasped at the sight of the mech blood staining the floor. 

 

Prowl lay naked, stretched out and bound. His leg was the source of the blood, and Ironhide came over to clamp his servos over the opened line. Prowl had already slipped into unconsciousness by the time he’d arrived. He opened a comm line with his location, demanding a medic. It was risky to broadcast his location, but Prowl needed a medic as soon as possible.

 

Looking at the young mechs face, he noticed tears shining on his cheeks. Lifting a servo, Ironhide wiped his face clean. No need for the mech to be embarrassed, even if no one would blame or even be surprised by a mech crying after his life is threatened. 

 

The next fifteen kliks had been some of the most tense moments in his life. Clutching the young mechs leg, he’d watched as Prowl’s respirations had grown weaker and weaker. When the medic had arrived, he’d moved back and let them take over, watching as they attached clamps and brought out the spark reviver.

 

It was out of his servos then, and he found himself wandering to the upper levels in search of a transport out of this hole. Normally he would have been itching to get to the fight, but right now he was just tired. After the injuries he’d sustained in the wreck and the amount of time it had been since he’d last recharged, he just wanted to curl up in his berth and rest. 

 

Eventually, he managed to find his way out of the underground section and moved towards the transports. He’d need to make a report to the Prime, but he doubted the mech would hold him for long. He smiled slightly. Optimus spent a lot of time worrying for his mecha, and Ironhide liked that about him. It was refreshing to have one's commanding officer think about how he felt for a change. 

 

He glanced over to the line up of mecha they’d caught during the raid. Most of them were the pit fighters themselves. Many would be offered their freedom once they were cleared. The autobots weren’t stupid. They knew that most of these mecha had no choice when it came to whether they fought or not. Most were slaves themselves. Like those two younglings…

 

He stopped. Fraggit all he’d forgotten about the younglings.

 

He turned away from the transport line and approached the prisoners. Coming up to the mech checking them, he pulled him aside. 

 

“Have you come across a pair of twins?” he asked.

 

“Twins? No sir. Those that were detained are all here.” the mech said.

 

Ironhide looked at the mecha lined up. There couldn’t be more than twenty of them.

 

“Are they still rounding up others?” he asked.

 

“I’m not sure, sir,” the mech said, looking bored, “Maybe. Who did you say you were again?”

 

Ironhide turned to stare at him. Frag it all he knew he looked a mess, but did this mech seriously not recognize who he was. Rolling his optics, he turned away and began to trace his way back down to the hallway he’d been in when the raid ahead started. 

 

He’d almost made it, and was reaching for the door that would admit him into the lower levels of the compound when the door flew open. A red blur came out and slammed into his midsection, knocking him down to his aft. Instinct had him grabbing on tightly to the small mechanism. The youngling let loose a squeal when his arms were pinned, calling for his brother. Ironhide looked above the struggling younglings helm to see Gold charging. 

 

Thinking fast, he caught the second little one around his middle using his legs. Little fists began smacking into his legs, outraged cries sounding twofold. The soldier who had been chasing them caught up to them pile of mechanisms, and snatched up the Golden youngling just before he could land a well aimed blow for his still uncovered valve. Primus, but he needed to find a medic to give him a spare codpiece!

 

Together, the two adult mecha wrangled the younglings down. When their fighting only increased, Ironhide regretfully pulled Red’s arms behind his back and snapped a pair of stasis cuffs on his wrists. The soldier did the same with Gold. Sharing a look, the two began the long trip back up to the loading docks.

 

*****

 

Inferno collapsed down into the seat next to his commanding officer in the soldier transport. The two younglings he’d helped Ironhide apprehend were still struggling against their bonds at their pedes. He rubbed at his thumb were one of them had bitten him. He was still bleeding and it would probably be good for him to see a medic once they got back. 

 

When he’d signed up to become a search and rescue mech, he’d never expected that something like this would be him first real mission. He’d been pulled from Kalis and was eager to get home for his next assignment, but when Ironhide had asked him to help him with the two younglings, he found himself nodding along. He’d never get a chance like this again. 

 

For vorn, he’d planned to work his way up to be able to have a specialist position in Iacon. If he could prove himself, he might have a chance at that sort of opportunity far earlier than he’d ever planned. Ironhide was the Weapons Master, not to mention he had the Prime’s audio if the gossip was to be believed. He turned to the mech, planning on introducing himself, only to close him mouth at the sight of the mech. 

 

Ironhide’s mouth was hanging open with his helm tilted back. Had the transport not been so loud, Inferno was certain he’d be hearing the mech snore. He glanced down. The twins had righted themselves so that they sat on their afts, backs pressed against the seat across from the adult mecha. They both glared daggers. 

 

Sighing, he sat back, staring the two down. Youngling sitting duty it was then…

 

*****

 

Red Alert sat at his station, finally feeling right. Optimus Prime had returned and was taking control of the situation, the fighting pits were finally in the last stages of clean up, and he only had a few more things to finish up before he could go and take a hot shower and recharge. After almost two orn without sleep while preparing for the raid, he couldn’t imagine anything better. 

 

Then Ironhide arrived. 

 

The youngling’s screams pounded throughout his processors, and he rose to give the Weapons Master a piece of his mind. Honestly, bringing prisoners into the same room as the Prime like a mainiac! 

 

The mech was beconing the Prime go follow him to his private chambers and Red Alert rose to follow, intent on stopping them. Then he heard it.

 

“Red?” a voice said from behind.

 

He whipped around, getting ready to tell off whoever thought they had the right to act so familiar with him, but the words died in his throat. 

 

Standing there, like he was fresh out of a dream, was his old younglinghood friend. 

 

Inferno looked much the same as he had as a youngling, though much bigger. He towered over Red Alert. 

 

“Red? Is that you?” he asked.

 

He stepped forward, like he was getting ready to touch Red Alert. It was then they both seemed to realize they both had an audience. The entire command room had fallen silent in the wake of Ironhide and his little put demons, and that had left their interaction clearly audible. 

 

Red Alert stepped back. When had they gotten close enough to feel each other’s fields?

 

He gestured to the door.

 

“Shall we speak privately?” he asked. 

 

Inferno nodded mutely and followed after his friend. 

  
  


*****

 

Ironhide sat glaring at the younglings he’d placed on his berth, his knee bouncing rapidly the only indication of his nervousness and irritation. Gold was glaring right back at him, his arms crossed over his chassis in a petulant display of his youth. Red, however, was gently running his servo over the blanket that Ironhide kept over his berth. The youngling stared in wonder at the material, and Ironhide felt his spark shrivel at the thought that this was probably the first time the little one had felt something so soft.

 

Optimus coughed lightly from his place standing by the door. Every optic came to rest on him. 

 

“Ironhide. Um…” Optimus visibly collected himself, “Firstly, how are you feeling?”

 

“‘M fine.” 

 

“You’re injured, Ironhide. You need to at least let a medic-”

 

“They got more important cases to deal with for the moment,” Ironhide glanced at him with a little smile, “but I’ll go. Swear it.”

 

Optimus nodded, thoughts turning to Prowl for a moment. Then one of the younglings snarled at Ironhide for shifting where he sat.

 

“Ironhide. What are these younglings doing in here? Why are they not with the others?”

 

Ironhide turned to stare at him incredulously. Thrusting his arms out, he indicated the little ones, who both flinched back.

 

“Whaddya mean, ‘why are they not with the others’!? Look at ‘em!”

 

“Ironhide…”

 

“Don’t, Prime! They don’t belong down there in some prisoner transport waiting for processing. They need a medic to check them over, and to have a bath, and something to eat! Primus, who knows how long it’s been since they’ve eaten. They look so skinny.”

 

The younglings had recovered from the fright of the quick movement, and the gold one was staring at Ironhide. The red one seemed a bit more curious, however.

 

“What are you suggesting, Ironhide?” Optimus asked, having a feeling he already knew the answer.

 

Ironhide sat quietly for a moment, looking at the younglings. 

 

“I could take them on,” he said quietly.

 

Optimus pinched the bridge of his nasal ridge. 

 

“Ironhide…”

 

Ironhide jumped up, winced, and sank back down. Optimus came and helped him, instantly fretting over his injuries. 

 

“Hear me out, Prime!” he said.

 

“Ironhide.”

 

Ironhide clutched his arm, “Please! Sir. Please at least hear what I have to say,” he looked imploringly up at his superior. 

 

Optimus tried to resist, but Ironhide had never seemed so… desperate… in all the time he’d known the mech.

 

“Fine.”

 

And so, Ironhide pled his case. And in the end, it really had made sense. The twin younglings (who they’d learned were named Sunstreaker and Sideswipe) had been raised in a fighters pit. They had no social skills, and no youngling facility would be able to handle them with the way the war was starting up. Ironhide could offer round the clock supervision while still fulfilling his duties, and they would have Ratchet as their primary doctor. 

 

When it came down to it, Optimus blamed his big spark (and Honeybee whispering in his audial about the twins future without them stepping in  _ now _ ) when he agreed. 

 

“But!” he said, “I can’t make this decision completely on my own. This is a security risk and I need Red Alert’s go ahead to allow this. I’ll ask him now.”

 

Ironhide threw his helm into his servos as Optimus commed the mech.

 

Both were completely surprised when the mech almost immediately agreed, voice sounding strangely thick.

 

“Are you alright, Red Alert?” Optimus asked.

 

“I’m just fine, Sir,” Red Alert had answered, before promptly hanging up on his Prime.

 

*****

 

In the dark of Red Alerts quarters, no words were spoken. Red Alert knew he’d probably regret agreeing to whatever the Prime had been asking about, but he couldn’t care less at the moment, He and Inferno embraced one another so tightly Red Alert half expected his armor to crack. Tears stained their faces from when they’d been sobbing agaisnt each other a joor ago. 

 

Red Alert felt complete. 

 

Inferno was here.

 

It was like coming home. 

 

Inferno was safety.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I managed to get a short chapter done for this week. Mainly because I got really sick and missed a day of work. XD I’m all better now though, but here you go! Next chapter will be in the works as soon as I’m done with my homework. Funny thing was, I got a comment asking about this last chapter and it cracked me up because I’d already written the scene. Great minds think alike, huh?
> 
> On a side note, I’m trying to see about getting some more feedback that isn’t from my professor. I’ve written an original novella and am working on the second one and if anyone is interested, I can post chapters here. I’m just trying to find plot holes and whatnot as well as get an idea of what people might like to see more or less of. If you guys are interested in reading that, I’d love the help. It draws heavily from some ideas in Transformers, but I haven’t plagiarized or anything. If not, does anyone know a good site to post to for good constructive criticism? Just let me know in the comments! Thanks you guys! Stay awesome!

In the later vorns of the twins lives, they would ask Optimus if they were hard younglings to take care of. He would always smile at them and tell them that they were no more difficult to care for than normal twins. Optimus was a terrible liar and the twins often reminisce about their formative vorns under Ironhide’s care, when they drove the poor mech insane. They respected him, even back then, but Primus it was fun to watch him get irritated. 

 

There was one mech whose plating was even more fun to get under. Prowl.

 

The mech never smiled, a fact that Sideswipe was dertermined to change. Even the Prime smiled at them. Pits, even Ratchet did, when they behaved for their medical exams. But never Prowl. 

 

They’d met the mech when they were brought by Ironhide into Ratchet’s domain for their injuries. The fights had been hard won the orn they were gifted Ironhide, and the resulting raid had left them with even more dents. And so, after convincing the large red and blue mech (with the most calming field they’d even felt) that they would be allowed to stay in Ironhide’s care, it had been decided that they needed check ups. 

 

The twins didn’t mind Ironhide caring for them. He was theirs after all. They’d won him in the pits and they were his new owners. Just because he said he was in charge didn’t mean it was fact.  They had been looking for someone to care for them for some time. Since their creators had sold them off to pay their gambling debts actually, and Ironhide fit the bill nicely. 

 

They didn’t even need to remind Ironhide that they owned him. He knew. It wasn’t brought up. Especially after he’d revved his engine at them and told them to sit by his pedes in the waiting room of the medbay. They’d sat because they’d wanted to thank you very much. They were completely in charge. 

 

When they were brought in, they’d marveled at the machines and the pristine white of the room around them. Sideswipe had been happy to meet the new red and white mech, chatting along as he’d poked and prodded at him. Sunstreaker had been less willing to obey the strange mech, but he never grew harsh in his touches. They liked that about him. 

 

Medics were a nessassary evil in their opinion, but this one was good. They could feel it. 

 

Ironhide had left them for a few clicks to speak with the medic privately when they’d heard it. A low moan and a coughing intake. Looking at each other, the decision to check it out was instantaneous. 

 

Slipping off of the berth, rust sticks poking from their intakes from when the medic had rewarded their good behavior (another perk in their optics), they followed the sound. In a back room lay a mech in a single berth. He was the only one in there and so they figured he must be rather important to be allowed to recover alone. He was covered by a mesh blanket and very skinny. Or at least that’s what they thought. Upon closer examination, they realized he was naked. 

 

Sideswipe glanced at his brother, sticking his glossy out.  _ Eww _ .

 

Just as they were turning to leave, the mech turned towards them, his optics lighting up. He gasped loudly, clutching at his chassis and jolting upright. Sunstreaker was thankful he’d held onto the blanket, otherwise they would have gotten quite the optic full.

 

Vibrant blue optics locked onto them and they both took a precautionary step back. The mech didn’t attack though, measly looked at them for a long moment before asking,

 

“Who are you?” 

 

Sideswipe puffed his plating, always happy to talk.

 

“I’m Sideswipe and this is Sunstreaker! Why’re you naked?” he asked.

 

For a moment, the mech seemed surprised. He glanced down at his bare frame, lifting the blanket a bit as if to be certain he really was. Once confirmed, he hid his frame behind it even more. He clicked a small button next to his berth, younglings forgotten for the moment. 

 

Suddenly, the room opened up and the lights snapped on. Ratchet was bustling around and Ironhide was picking them up, saying something about berth time. Optimus passed them as they left, a servo trailing down Ironhide’s arm in comfort as they passed.

 

Sideswipe glanced at his brother from his position slung underneath Ironhide’s arm. It was a position that they would find themselves in often for the remainder of their youngling hoods. 

 

“What’s a ‘berth time’?” he mouthed to his brother.

 

Sunstreaker only shrugged.

 

*****

 

He hadn’t meant for this to happen. When Inferno had come with him to his quarters a few orn ago, they’d held one another through tears. Too exhausted to move after that, they’d both simply climbed into Red Alert’s berth and recharged in one another’s arms. The orns following had been hectic, with Red Alert working hard to keep up while Prowl recovered from his injuries. Inferno had been reassigned to work in Iacon in recognition for his help to Ironhide (and Red Alert’s personal recommendation to the Prime) just as he’d always wished.

 

And so, they both settled back in. Red Alert visited Prowl in the medbay and listened to his complaints when he’d found out about the twins, but Red Alert couldn’t feel bad about it. Not really. Not when he had to meet with Inferno in twenty clicks for their nightly energon. 

 

They made it two nights recharging in their own rooms. On the third, Inferno had been in Red Alert’s quarters, with the two of them just talking. Red Alert had his legs draped over Inferno’s lap when the mech had began to rise. 

 

“I should go…” he said. 

 

Red Alert found the idea horrible. He clutched Infernos servo before he could stand all the way up.

 

“Stay,” he said.

 

And so, Inferno did.

 

When Red Alert woke the next day, Inferno’s servo had settled across his chassis, right above his spark. His digits had curled into one of his seams, and Red Alert found his field flushed with embarrassment. The shift woke Inferno, and he nuzzled into Red Alert’s neck for a moment before realizing what he was doing. 

 

Snatching his servo free, he leapt up. 

 

“I- I’m sorry! I shouldn’t be here, Red. You’re my commanding officer. I need to go-”

 

Red Alert kissed him then.

 

Three orn later found Red Alert clutching at Inferno desperately, his helm bumping into the top of his berth with every thrust of his friend’s hips. His  _ lovers _ hips. It was fragging perfect. 

 

He bit his lower lip plate to stifle a moan only to have to completely disable his vocalizer as overload crashing into them both. Mouth opened into a silent scream, he lost his focus. When he came back to himself, Inferno was staring down at him, his face illuminated by a bright light. For a moment, Red Alert was confused, wondering where the light was coming from. 

 

Then he looked down.

 

His chassis was split wide open, almost lewdly so. Inferno stared down at his spark in awe, mouth gaping wide.

 

Red Alert jerked up, sliding his chest plates closed so fast it hurt. 

 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. It was an accident!” his horns sparked as panic took over. 

 

He really hadn’t meant to do that. Primus, but Inferno was going to hate him. Mecha didn’t bare their sparks after a few short orns of interfacing. They didn’t even do that after a an entire vorn of interfacing! He’d blown it!

 

A pair of servos wrapped around his waist, and he was tugged back to rest agaisnt Infernos chassis. 

 

“It’s ok, Red. No harm done. I’m honestly flattered,” Inferno said. 

 

Red Alert just moaned, his faceplate so hot with embarrassment he didn’t dare lift them from his servo. Inferno chuckled, nuzzling into Red Alert’s back. 

 

“Come on. Forget about it. I’m not leaving you any time soon. Let’s get ready before we’re late for our shifts. Ironhide is back on duty today and I want to see if I can sneak an image capture of his face. I know those two younglings are running him ragged,” Inferno said, moving towards Red Alert’s on suite wash racks.

 

A perk that his own quarters didn’t have and he found himself enjoying very much. While they didn’t really want to keep secrets from their fellow soldiers, they didn’t broadcast their newfound relationship. It was simply safer for them both if they kept it a secret. Red Alert didn’t want to deal with the danger of having his lover targeted and Inferno didn’t want it to seem like he’d interfaced his way into his position. 

 

Together, they helped one another clean up, almost making themselves late anyway when Inferno got a bit to handsy, but Red Alert swatted the servo away from where it was currently fondling his aft. 

 

“Stop it, ‘Fern. I’ve got a meeting and I don’t need a bunch of paint transfers all over my aft,” he laughed. 

 

“Yeah? Who with?” Inferno asked.

 

Red Alert shrugged, puffing his armor out as he went under the dryer. 

 

“I’ve never met him before, but he’s been requesting a personal meeting with the Prime, so I need to clear him myself,” he said.

 

“What’s his designation?” Inferno asked. 

 

Checking himself in the mirror, Red Alert made his way out of the wash racks. 

 

“He calls himself ‘Ultra Magnus’. A bit presumptuous if you ask me, but we’ll see.”

 

And with a pecking kiss on Infernos cheek and a goodbye, he slipped out of his quarters to start a new day. 


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for being so patient with me! For those of you reading my We Alone series, the next two chapters are up! Here is the next chapter for WRtL, YWE though, and it’s a long one for y’all! We had a teacher work day today so I sat in the back of the room and literally just wrote this the entire time. Woo for wasting company time! Anyway, enjoy!

When Optimus had first been introduced to Ultra Magnus by Red Alert, he wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. The mech was new, someone who he hadn’t heard of until very recently, but his record showed for itself. It was impeccable, in fact. The mech stood at such ramrod attention, Optimus had straightened his own backstrut a bit in unconscious response. 

 

Alone in Optimus’ office, the mech had waited until Red Alert had left before addressing his Prime. 

 

“Sir,” he said. 

 

Optimus rose for his chair and pressed his open palm against the mechs own in greeting. 

 

“Hello,” he said, “I’ve been informed that you have been seeking a private audience with me. What can I do for you, Ultra Magnus?”

 

Ultra Magnus stared at him for a long moment. Long enough for Optimus to shift uncomfortably in his chair. Just when he had been about to press the mech to answer, Ultra Magnus spoke.

 

“You don’t recognize me, do you, Sir?” he asked. 

 

Optimus blinked.

 

“I beg your pardon?” he asked. 

 

“You don’t recognize me. I thought that you might recognize me, but it has been some time since we last saw each other. I have changed significantly,”

 

Optimus was now staring. The mech was familiar he had to admit, but he couldn’t quite place where he knew him from. Tracing his optics up and down the mechs frame, he struggled mentally. He didn’t recognize the frame, it was too large to  _ not _ remember. The color of the mech was even hard to pin. There were just so many blue mecha in his ranks. He focused on the mechs faceplates.

 

Mouth set in a stern frown underneath a broad and sharp nasal ridge, the mech certainly was intimidating. Optimus might even be put off if he hadn’t been so used to dealing with such mecha by now. One didn’t face down Megatron himself and then back down from an unhappy frown. Tracking up the mechs face farther, he looked into his optics. 

 

Reality crashed down around Optimus’ helm. Honeybee cackled in the back of his processor, commenting about how long it took him. His old friend might have a new body, but his optics were the same. The same optics that Optimus had gone out for drinks with after shift, and looked at while they heated crate after crate onto the loading dock, and shared rechargeless nights when Prowl had night terrors. 

 

_ Dion… _

 

Optimus jumped up out of his chair and almost fell over his desk in his rush to get around it. Throwing his arms around his old friend, tears slipped down his cheeks. Dion, no, Ultra Magnus held him back just as tightly. 

 

“How? How is this possible?” Optimus asked.

 

“I’m not sure. I don’t remember much after the docks were attacked. I woke up after they reformatted me into this frame. There was this little yellow femme that said she was there on your behalf and that I should seek you out once I was back on my pedes, but it’s somewhat hard to get in touch with the  _ Prime _ . I joined the Autobots once I heard about what all had happened,” Ultra Magnus was quiet for a beat, “I missed you ‘Rion.” 

 

Optimus laughed for a moment. 

 

“No one has called me that since I became Prime. Even Prowl.”

 

“I heard about what happened to Prowl. How goes his recovery?” Ultra Magnus asked.

 

“It goes. He is stronger every orn, but the attack was very specific. We have a problem.” Optimus said.

 

“Oh?”

 

“His old master, from before he was with me, found him. He’s the one who hurt Prowl. He’s still hunting Prowl, even after all this time,” Optimus said.

 

Ultra Magnus was silent for a moment.

 

“We’ll protect him as we always have. If I recall, Prowl was an enforcer before he was ever your soldier. He’s strong. With our help, he’ll be fine. Pits, with that little security officer of yours, I’m surprised anything gets through to your mechs!”

 

Optimus laughed again. 

 

“He is very good at his job. He was one of the temple mecha caring for me when I became Prime. He’s a good mech, if a bit eccentric. He’s recently found a younglinghood friend that I think will be a good influence on him.”

 

Ultra Magnus just raised an optic brow. 

 

*****

 

Ultra Magnus took over for Prowl as the young mech recovered, though that didn’t stop him for long. The two butted helms over almost everything, and while frustrating much of the time, Optimus sometimes found himself holding back laughter. The two were just too alike. Prowl lasted about three orn before he wrestled command back from Ultra Magnus, right after the mech patted his helm like he used to do when he was a youngling in front of half of the command staff. 

 

Ultra Magnus swore up and down that it was just a reflexive action, though he wore a smile when he said it. 

 

Prowl spent the next vorn slapping the servos of mecha who thought it funny to try to pat him away from his helm. He never forgave Ultra Magnus, even if he allowed him a brief hug when he was told who he was.

 

*****

 

_ Three Vorn Later _

 

Red Alert and Inferno’s sparks came apart slowly, almost as if even their sparks would rather just be one. Their bonding had been one of the best decisions Red Alert had ever made. Inferno felt the same way. They courted one another for roughly two vorns before they simply couldn’t wait anymore. Both had opened their spark plates accidentally after interfacing more times than they could count before they finally threw caution to the wind. 

 

On one of their rare few shore leaves had seen them off together in a small cottage on the beach of Kalis that Red Alert had reserved as soon as they’d gotten word of where they were going to be stationed. Together, they’d spent three glorious orns interfacing, recharging, and locking sparks so often Inferno had developed heat rash against his spark walls. They were addicted to one another.

 

His creators would have had a fit. Come to think of it, the temple priests would have as well, if only because they didn’t go through their vows in a temple. They had spoken their vows, but it had been under the stars, with the ocean water lapping at their pedes. Red Alert still blushed hot whenever he thought back to those vows. He’d never imagined he would have someone so dedicated to loving him.

 

They still hid their bond. It was just too dangerous to let their enemies know about such a substantial weakness. Their schedules didn’t often let them have much time together anyway. Red Alert had risen even higher in his station, and served as the Chief of Security. He answered only to their Prime. 

 

Inferno hadn’t reached such a level, but he was now a recognized specialist in his field. He got to live his dream working directly alongside Ironhide himself. When he’d been promoted, Inferno hadn’t been able to stop smiling. Red Alert could still remember feeling him smile against his backplating when they’d gone into recharge that night. 

 

Settling down at his desk for his shift, Red Alert sighed and rubbed at his optics. He’d been more and more tired lately. A few orns ago, Red Alert had woken to his mate laughing at him, telling him that he’d fallen into recharge  _ while _ Inferno had been making love to him.

 

Red Alert had almost glitched with embarrassment, not helped in the least by his mate throwing his helm back and laughing harder. Inferno had kissed his horn, running his servos up and down Red Alert’s backplates, and sneaking down further to pat his aft. 

 

Red Alert yelped when Inferno suddenly grabbed his aft more firmly, lifting him up to wrap his legs around his waist and hold him against him. Inferno kissed him deeply, making Red Alert’s engine purr in contentment.

 

“You’ve got to stop working yourself so hard. You’ll make yourself sick,” he said. 

 

“I can’t,” Red Alert said, “I’ve got to keep all of Prime’s Autobits safe. I’ve got to keep  _ you _ safe.” 

 

“I’ll be fine, Red. I won’t leave you.”

 

“I know, ‘Fern. It’s just the way I am,” he said, thinking of his glitch. 

 

“You’re perfect the way you are,” Inferno whispered. 

 

They parted sadly, and went off to their respective shifts. Red Alert felt a firm slap to his aft as he went into the elevator. Yelping, he stir a glare at Inferno as the doors closed. Primus but that mech was obsessed with his aft. 

 

Checking his messages, he swore. He had a meeting in Optimus Prime’s office in five clicks. He’d completely forgotten. His tanks lurched as he grabbed his data stick and set off. 

 

When he’d left the temple to serve under the Prime, there had been rules. The temple had raised him, and cared for him free of charge, even covering his extensive medical bills. They still payed, so long as he followed his rules. It was ok for Red Alert. He liked rules. They kept him safe. Without them, he opened himself up to making mistakes. Being punished. 

 

They were simple. No actively agitating his glitch. No going against the Prime’s direct orders. Ensure he keep himself out of the spotlight. Do not shame the Temple of Primus. No interfacing.

 

Bonding to Inferno was the only time he’d ever disobeyed the rules. He couldn’t help himself. He loved Inferno more than he feared punishment. 

 

Officially, Optimus was in charge of him, though the Temple of Primus could step in at any time. For all intents and purposes, the temple owned him. 

 

Rapping his knuckles agaisnt Prime’s office door, he waited for permission to enter. Once he heard it, he entered. His helm swam with dizziness as he sat, cluctching the arm rest of the chair as subtly as possible. He did small talk briefly with the Prime before launching into his presentation of his idea for tighter security around their new flagship, The Ark. 

 

His tanks churned and he felt condensation form across his body. Primus but he just wanted to get back to his desk. His chassis hurt, almost like it was flexing inward. Had he gotten heat rash? He remembered Inferno saying it was very distracting. 

 

“Red Alert? Are you unwell?” Optimus asked.

 

Red Alert snapped his helm up to find Optimus looking straight up at him, his datapad laid down beside him forgotten.

 

“I’m sorry, Sir. I think I might have a virus of some sort. I’ll be fine,” he said. 

 

Optimus rose from his chair, servo lifted towards him, “Perhaps we should continue this meeting another time.”

 

Red Alert was going to say no. His Prime was a busy mech. He didn’t need to change his schedule up just for him. He waved a servo, trying to say that it wasn’t necessary to reschedule.

 

Pain ripped through his chassis, and he hunched forward. Unprocessed energon spewed from his mouth, splattering all over the front of the Prime’s desk, and he couldn’t even bring himself to feel bad about it. Falling from the chair to his knees, he felt Optimus’ servos wrap around his shoulders, and he could hear him calling over the comms for Ratchet. 

 

*****

 

Red Alert was hardly aware as Ratchet wheeled him down the corridor of the Ark, towards the medbay. He could hear Ratchet asking him where his pain was, and he pawed at his chassis. He was startled to realize it was cracked open. When had he opened his sparkplates? Optimus was beside him, servo holding his own. Shame seeped through at the thought of the Prime seeing his bared spark. 

 

Pain came again, and he arched up, shouting. His chassis split further. What sort of virus caused this much pain? 

 

They got into the medbay before he could show his nakedness anymore. Coming into a private room, Ratchet set to touching and visually checking his chassis. 

 

Red Alert moaned, “Inferno…”

 

Optimus had a serious look on his face, as if he was listening to someone speaking, before he lifted his servo and touched his comm. 

 

“Ironhide, I need Inferno in the medbay immediately. It’s an emergency,” he said.

 

Panic slammed into Red Alert. Did he know? He couldn’t. They’d been so careful. But Optimus was suddenly glaring. Oh sweet Primus, did he  _ know _ ?

 

Inferno came a few clicks later, replacing Optimus by his side, clutching his servo. 

 

“What’s wrong, Red? What happened?”

 

The second question was directed at Optimus, who explained what had happened in his office. Pain worse than any other struck then, and Red Alert screamed.

 

Suddenly, he felt servos lifting him up, only to flip him onto his front. Memories of punishments from his creators and the staff at the asylum flooded, and he tensed, waiting to feel the bite of a metal cane. His horns sparked madly, and he felt too hot. 

 

Letting out one last scream, he felt a  _ snap _ in his chassis just below his spark. Then relief. 

 

Sobbing from the sudden absence of pain, it took him a moment to collect himself before he dared to look down. He almost screamed again when he saw it.

 

Bright blue optics blinked open for the first time, taking in everything around them before locking onto Red Alert. A high pitched squeal burst from the little one, and Red Alert felt the bond between himself and Inferno explode with love. Glancing to his mate, Inferno’s optics were locked on the sparkling, tears streaming down his face. 

 

Gingerly, he lowered himself down onto his side to avoid crushing the sparkling.  _ His _ sparkling. Reaching his servo out, he ran it over the little ones backplates, still slick from birthing fluids and warm from being inside of him. Ratchet came with a cloth then, quickly cleaning it off. Optimus was gone, having left without Red Alert realizing.

 

It was mainly black, taking after Inferno’s sire’s colors he’d later learn, but splashes of red ran up and down its sides. It’s little sparkling claws were sharp when they grasped his own servo, but Red Alert couldn’t have cared less. 

 

“It’s a femme,” Ratchet whispered to them, letting them have their moment. After cleaning himself and taking some (much needed) pain chips, Red Alert settled back on the berth of one of Ratchet’s private rooms, sharing the space with Inferno. He fed the sparkling, and both simply stared at their new daughter. She had Red Alert’s horns, complete with the light up feature that Red Alert had always hated but Inferno said was cute on him. They’d discovered that when she’d cleared her vents in an impressive ‘poof’, and dimly lit the dark room.

 

“What should we call her?” Red Alert asked his mate.

 

After some thought, and a few discarded designations, ‘Really, ‘Fern? Sparkcrusher?’ Red Aler had asked, they settled on the perfect one. As her little horns flickered.

 

Firefly.

 

*****

 

Optimus sat in his mindscape, glaring at nothing. Honeybee gently massaged his shoulder struts.

 

“Come on, his own mate didn’t even know. You can’t be mad at him for not telling you. I don’t think  _ he _ even knew,” she said.

 

“It’s not that he didn’t tell me he was sparked, Honeybee. It’s the first bit. He didn’t even tell me he had a  _ mate _ .”

 

“Come now, can you blame him? You know about those stupid rules the Temple put him under. You don’t even agree with them.  _ I _ don’t even agree with them, and I’m Primus’ Seer. He can’t ignore being in love,” she said.

 

“He put himself in danger. As well as his new spark. He should have at least told Ratchet he was bonded. He would have been bound by the medics code to keep it from me.”

 

Honeybee stopped rubbing, leaning over Optimus’ shoulder to give him a look.

 

“After everything he’s been through in his life, do you seriously think he’s going to trust a medics word? You saw him tense up when we flipped him to let the sparkling drop. He expected punishment.”

 

Optimus sat quietly, still glaring, but not so hard. Honeybee was still for a moment, looking at him, before reaching back a servo and slapping the back of Optimus’ helm. Hard. 

 

“You aren’t actually thinking of punishing him for this, are you?!?” she shouted.

 

“Of course not!” he yelled, rubbing his helm, “But I’m worried for him. The Temple will not take this news well.”

 

Honeybee moved around him and sank into his lap gracefully. Taking his helm in her servos, she tilted it to have him look down at her.

 

“Of course they won’t, Optimus. But you’re the fragging Prime. Red Alert is  _ your _ Head of Security. They placed you in charge of him, discipline included. Don’t let them bully you into harming him or letting them take him. He needs you right now. That new spark needs you. There is no place safer than the Ark right now. Not with this war raging the way it is. If they demand punishment, then punish him, but make it fit the crime.”

 

“What do you mean?” 

 

Honeybee smirked, releasing his face, “He’s a new parent. Put him on medical leave and limited duty so he can have time to acclimate to his new reality. That little one will have him running on fumes within a decacycle.”

 

Optimus stared at her for a moment as the idea sunk in.

 

“Are you sure you’re not actually from Unicron? Because you’re evil,” he said.

 

Honeybee just smiled.

 

“Now it’s your turn, big mech,” she said turning her body in his lap to give him access to her back, “It’s been vorn since I’ve had a good back rub.”

 

Optimus smiled back, feeling much more at ease with the entire situation. He could handle this. And if not, he had Honeybee. He worked his servos into her back, thinking of how funny it was that an apperation could enjoy a massage. 

 

A knocking sound echoed throughout the mindscape, breaking his concentration. Someone was at the door of his meditation chamber. 

 

Honeybee sighed heavily, all dramatics, before getting up and allowing Optimus to fade back into his real body. 

 

Optimus stood once he was completely back and went to answer the door.

 

_ You still owe me a fragging good back rub, Optimus! _

 

Optimus rolled his optics.

 

_ Yes, Teacher,  _ he thought back. 

 

Opening the door revealed Inferno, looking distraught. Surprised, Optimus stopped. He hadn’t expected him to be here. Why wasn’t he with Red Alert?

 

Panic that wasn’t his own swept through him. Honeybee.

 

_ Oh no. Optimus, run. _

 

“Prime!” Inferno cried, tears streaming down his face, “Please, you’ve got to help me! They’re taking Red away!”

 

Optimus was already past him, running in the direction of the medbay.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I updated this a few days ago and guess what I did? Updated this chapter to the wrong story! So sorry guys! I hope you enjoy though! The next few chapters of We Alone will be up within the next few days and I've also got another Transformers fic up if y'all wanna read that! Enjoy!

Prowl had been walking with Ironhide, doing their rounds together when the comm had come through from Optimus ordering them to the medbay immediately. They had shared a look before double timing it that way. Prowl found he liked that about Ironhide. The mech was completely no nonsense and followed orders well, especially when it came to their Prime. Prowl actually liked Ironhide a lot, now that he was over his original distaste of the mech. Really, he had been immature about the whole thing.

 

He thought back to the first time they’d spoken civilly to one another. He had just been waking from his induced stasis. He had lurched up almost completely off of the berth, and would have fallen had strong arms wrapped around him and helped him settle back. 

 

“Easy there. You’re safe now, kid,” a voice had said.

 

Forced to lay back down, he looked at the other mech once he moved back into his line of sight. 

 

“Ironhide?” he asked.

 

Ironhide sat heavily back in the visitors chair.

 

“Hey, kid. How you feelin’? You need any pain chips or anything?” Ironhide said.

 

Prowl shook his helm numbly. 

 

“What do you remember?” Ironhide asked.

 

Prowl thought for a moment before answering, “I remember that room and the attack. I’m assuming we were both rescued?” 

 

Ironhide nodded.

 

“I remember a femme and I think… you?” he asked.

 

Again, Ironhide nodded.

 

“Yeah, I found ya in that room. Whoever did that to ya was gone and I didn’t see anyone else in there with ya, though to be fair I was tryin’ to keep ya from bleedin’ out,” he said.

 

“She left before you came in…” Prowl said, thinking about the strange yellow femme. It was all mostly a blur now.

 

“You remember anythin’ else?” Ironhide asked.

 

Prowl started to answer, but closed his mouth, certain he was wrong.

 

“What?” Ironhide asked.

 

Making a face, Prowl said, “I don’t think it actually happened, but… I remember two younglings.”

 

“Red an’ yellow?”

 

Prowl looked at Ironhide in surprise. The mech lifted a servo to rub at the back of his helm sheepishly.

 

“Yeah. They were there. I kinda took those two in. They were pit fighters that we rescued. They were too young to process so I offered to raise ‘em here.”

 

Prowl stared at him for a long moment before realizing he wasn’t joking. 

 

“Are you serious!?” he half shouted, trying again to sit up.

 

Ironhide leaned forward and pushed him back down. 

 

“Relax, Prowl. Ya can yell all ya want when you’re all healed up. Though I’ll warn ya now, with as much noise as those two make, I may have blown my audios out by then…”

 

Prowl thought about making a fuss anyway, but decided he didn’t want to hear Ratchet yell at him for overexerting himself. Speaking of Ratchet…

 

“Where is Ratchet?” he asked.

 

Ironhide gave a bark of laughter. 

 

“Currently, givin’ the twins a check up. It’ll be awhile before he gets here.”

 

Prowl glanced at him, noting how tired he looked.

 

“Why are you here then?” he asked, “I would think you might try to rest.”

 

Ironhide shrugged, “Eh. I figured I’d come check on ya. Ease Prime’s processor a bit. Mech was all but beside himself when he heard how hurt you got. He’d be here if it weren’t for Red running him ragged about some new mech. Magnus I think he’s called.”

 

Prowl glanced down at his servos folded in his lap.

 

“Ah,” he said, trying to ignore the sting of hurt, “Well, you may report that I am well, if still a bit dizzy.” 

He waited to hear Ironhide get up and leave, but the mech didn’t budge. When he looked back up, Ironhide was looking right back.

 

“Ya had  _ me  _ worried too, ya know,” Ironide said seriously, “I thought ya’d bled out there under my servos. I’m glad ta see ya lookin’ a little less… grey, if ya know what I mean.”

 

Prowl didn’t know how to respond to that, so he simply said, “Thank you.”

 

They were quiet for a moment before he heard crash down the hall and Ratchet’s signature yelling. Ironhide rose then.

 

“And that’ll be the twins. I’ll come back in a few orns, yeah?” he said as he strode out of the door.

 

Prowl didn’t even have a chance to respond. Though he realized he was actually looking forward to it.

  
  


*****

 

Ironhide actually came back, this time with the two younglings he had taken on as charges. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were… interesting if he had to choose a word for them. They entered the room in a whirlwind, asking him questions and reaching up to stroke his wings. Ironhide had removed them a short while later, once Sideswipe had grown too rough with his twin. One mention of ‘nap time’ had the two whining in a classic youngling manner, but both hung limply in his arms. Sunstreaker was already cuddling up to their guardian as he left Prowl’s recovery room with a nod.

 

*****

 

Ironhide entered his room the orn before he was due to be released. Prowl, who had been expecting Optimus had not even bothered to look up from the datapad in his servos. 

 

“Primus! What is Dion doing! He knows how to file! I know he does! Why is he putting the troop placement reports with the energon consumption reports!?” he shouted.

 

“Who’s Dion?” Ironhide asked.

 

Prowl’s wings shot up in surprise at the voice he was not expecting to hear. Ironhide stood in the doorway, failing at holding back a laugh. Prowl stuttered, trying to come up with an explanation. Finally, Ironhide had mercy.

 

“Ya know, I used to think you really didn’t feel anything with how uptight ya always were. Guess I owe you an apology fer that…” he said.

 

Prowl shook his helm.

 

“No need. I know the sort of image I carry. It can be advantageous at times,” Prowl said.

 

Ironhide was quiet for a moment, before a smile bloomed on his face. 

 

“Why, Prowl? Was that a joke? I didn’t think you had it in ya!” he asked.

 

Prowl allowed a small smile to come to his mouth. 

 

“Why are you here, Ironhide? May I help you?” he asked.

 

“Naw,” Ironhide said, “I was just coming to visit. Figured you were probably a bit stir crazy just sittin’ in here with Ratch.”

 

Prowl gestured to the stack of datapads next to his berth. 

 

“I have been allowed to work from here so long as I don’t over exert myself. Ratchet keeps a close optic on the monitors,” he said.

 

Ironhide laughed heartily, “Yeah. I swear he’s got it directly wired to his HUD.”

 

“Where are your twins?” Prowl asked.

 

Ironhide sighed in relief, slumping in the visitors chair.

 

“With Inferno. They’re good younglings, but Primus they’re a lot to deal with at times!”

 

“That’s what you get for taking in two pit fighters that aren't even out of their second frames,” he teased. Ironhide gave him a weary smirk. 

 

“Eh. They keep me on the tips of my pedes.”

 

It was quiet for a bit, with Ironhide resting his optics and Prowl continuing his work. Prowl found himself enjoying the presence of the other mech. He’d once thought the mech was incapable of being silent. Now he realized that he just needed to be very tired to do so. He thought back to the past few decacycles of his recovery. Ironhide visited almost as much as Optimus…

 

“I never did thank you,” he said.

 

Ironhide onlined an optic and peeked at him.

 

“Fer what?” he asked.

 

“For saving my life.”

 

That had Ironhide sitting up, looking uncomfortable.

 

“Eh. It’s not a big-”

 

“It is,” Prowl said, cutting in, “I had been nothing but cruel to you up to that orn. You didn’t deserve that, and I apologise for my behavior. But I do want you to know, I am thankful to you for saving me. I am also thankful to you for not holding what happened against me.”

 

“Against you?” Ironhide said, “Primus, Prowl! You were nearly killed! Why, if I get ahold of that monster, I’ll rip his platin’ off of him piece by piece! What he did to ya was unspeakable!” 

 

Prowl went quiet. Did he know who had been in that room with Prowl? Did he know? He couldn’t. He just couldn’t!

 

“Prime told me about you once we had ya stabilized. I’m sorry for not telling you I knew, but I didn’t want ta add to yer stress,” Ironhide said.

 

Prowl’s tank lurched. So that was why Ironhide visited him. Not be become friends. He was just doing his duty to Prime. He just pitied the runaway slave. 

 

“Now stop that right there!” 

 

Ironhhide’s shout startled him and he jumped.

 

“I don’t care where you came from and what yer past is! You’re a good mech and what happened to ya when you were a younglin’ was terrible, but I don’t for a second think less of ya for it! Come on Prowl, don’t you think you know me better by now?” he asked.

 

Prowl sat stunned. No one who knew his past had ever spoken to him like that before. Had ever admitted to actually caring for him before. No one except Optimus. He stared down at his lap, to overwhelmed to really try to say what he was thinking. A red servo closed around his arm. 

 

“I care, Prowl. And I’m serious. I ever see that mech again, I’ll offline him without a second thought. We gotta protect our friends, right?” he asked.

 

Prowl smiled up at him. He could trust Ironhide. He knew he could. With his own safety and Optimus’. 

 

“Though I will say, I never woulda pegged you for being so young. I’m gonna really have fun with callin’ ya ‘kid’ now,” Ironhide said with a smirk.

 

So much for maintaining a professional presence in front of the mech now.

  
  


*****

 

_ Three Vorn Later _

 

Together, Ironhide and Prowl rushed to the medbay. Prowl wasn’t sure what was going on, but he hoped it didn’t have a negative effect on Red Alert. Of the few mecha Prowl counted as a friend, Red Alert and his mate were on that list. He was excited to see their new sparkling as well. He’d never seen one up close that he could remember. 

 

Screaming had them both picking up the pace. Rounding the corner, the scene that greeted them was horrific. Ratchet clutched a screaming newspark against his chassis, hurling insults and fighting against two mecha holding him back but not able to do much else. More mecha were dragging Red Alert down the corridor, blood trailing back from where the energon drip had been ripped out of his arm. He fought desperately against the mecha, reaching back towards Ratchet. Two nobles stood off to the side, glaring at the entire affair.

 

Ironhide leapt into the fray immediately. Fists flying, he started beating back the mecha who were pulling Red Alert away. Prowl stepped forward and looked at the chaos for a moment.

 

He waited for a moment, before he stepped forward and stopped in front of the closest armored mech who was the only one still clutching Red Alert. With the flat of his servo, he slapped the mech across the face as hard as he could. His servo stung from the impact and he looked down sparklessly at the mech sprawled on the floor. 

 

Silence rang throughout the room.

 

“What is going on here?” he asked calmly.

 

The two noblemecha stepped forward. The one on the right spoke up.

 

“If you and your brutes are done assaulting our hired servos, we would like to speak to whoever is in charge,” he said.

 

“That would be me,” Optimus said, sweeping into the room, Inferno not far behind him.

 

The noble scoffed.

 

“Of course you would be here!” he shouted, pointing to Inferno, “I bet you’re the one that knocked our sparkling up!” 

 

“Sparkling!?” Ironhide shouted from the floor.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a chapter! I’m not sure how much I’ll get to write for the next few weeks as I gear up for the next semester of grad school as well as prepare my students for finals, but hopefully it won’t be too long. Until then, have some plot angst!

The two nobles sat side by side facing Optimus in his office. Prowl stood like a sentry by his side, stiff and unmoving. Ironhide was outside, sporting a broken optic but smirking darkly. Optimus looked them over, and was put off by their immaculate paint jobs. One was a stunning red and black mixture, and Optimus had the idea he knew where Firefly’s colors came from. The other was almost completely black, with tasteful streaks of blue running up his sides. 

 

One sat with his legs crossed over the other, arms crossed. Finally, the Red one spoke. 

 

“First off, I would like to thank you my Prime, for taking time from your very busy schedule to speak with us regarding this… unfortunate incident.” 

 

Optimus leaned forward, lacing his digits together.  _ You've got this, Optimus. You are in control. This is your office _ , Honeybee whispered in his mind.

 

“Yes, I take the life of my Chief Security Officer very seriously,” Optimus said, “And you have upset him by coming in and trying to steal him away from his mate and newspark.”

 

They both looked surprised.

 

“They are mated? They said their vows in a formal setting? In front of an ordained priest?” Black said.

 

Optimus paused, mentally flailing. He had honestly been a bit upset with Red Alert since he had sparked Firefly. He hadn’t even known Red Alert and Inferno were a  _ thing _ . He knew of their friendship, but he had honestly been surprised by everything. When he’d asked Honeybee about it, she had smiled knowingly and said that he hadn’t asked. 

 

He remembered calling Inferno in a few orn after Firefly’s emergence, to explain. Inferno had sat quietly through his lecture, servos clasped in his lap and optics down. He then had explained what had happened. How they had fallen together not long after he had joined the Ark’s crew. How they had fallen in love. How they had thrown caution to the wind after repeated times of baring their sparks by accident. 

 

How they bonded without preforminging their vows because if Red Alert tried to go to a priest, or any place to legally bond, they would find out he had broken his rules when allowed out of the temple. They would be forced to send him back to the asylum. The story flooded out of him then. Of their younglinghood together, and Red Alert’s escape.

 

Optimus had known that Red Alert had a troubled past, but everytime he pressed Red would change the subject. He’d never expected it to be that bad.

 

And so he said, “I performed the ceremony myself. Prowl was our witness.”

 

He guestered behind himself to Prowl, who’s wings perked minutely. It was the only tell of his surprise before he nodded sharply. Optimus felt pride bloom in his spark. Prowl was just as upset with the situation as he was, but he protected his own.

 

The noble sat back, tilting his helm slightly towards in a way that indicated he was speaking through his bond to the other. The red one shifted forward again.

 

“My Prime, I know that Red Alert has managed to worm his way into your spark. We hear you are a kind and good mech. It makes sense that you feel… pity for him. Unfortunately, Red Alert is unwell. He has probably hidden it very well, but he has a very serious glitch in his programming.”

 

Optimus stared them both down hard. Long enough to make them uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. Finally, he leaned back in his chair and spoke.

 

“I am aware of his ‘glitch’ as you call it. It does not affect his work for me so I see no reason for him to not be here. What I really want to know is why you are here, and what makes you think you have  _ any _ right to drag a mech who has just released a new spark out of his berth in the  _ medbay _ and try to take him away from his family.”

 

Both sat proudly, unflinching in the wake of his anger.

 

“We own him,” the red mech said, “He is our first sparked son. That gives us specific rights to him, especially considering his disability. He escaped from the asylum where he was being treated a good many vorn ago. He preyed on good sparked priests and tricked them into believing he was some sort of victim. We only want what’s best for our son, and this fiasco, this sparkling and mate of his are going to ruin him.”

 

“I doubt that,” Optimus said, “He is a fully functioning mech and I need him. He is my Head of Security. My Chief Medical Officer has cleared him for duty so I’m afraid you cannot have him. Now I’m going to ask you two to leave. If you do not comply, Prowl here will ensure you do. I  _ highly _ suggest you comply.”

 

The two stood as one. 

 

“My Prime,” the black one said, “I’m afraid you are not aware of what you are starting. We came here for our embarrassment of a son. He has sullied our families name for too long. It’s time we brought him home and dealt with him.”

 

Optimus’ optics narrowed and he sensed Prowl stepping forward behind him.

 

“There are currently over forty reporters outside of this base expecting the news of the vorn. How do you think the mecha of Cybertronian will take to finding out that the Prime is using a mentally handicapped mech as his Head of Security? If you allow us to take him now, there will be no problems. But if you force us out, you can’t stop us from talking.”

 

Optimus stood himself. He took a long moment to think.

 

“I don’t believe you,” he said, “Prowl? Please escort these two out. I don’t want to see them anywhere on this base again.”

 

Prowl stepped forward, smiling slightly. 

 

“Of course, my Prime.”

 

Coming around the desk, he reached out and took each of their arms in his grasp. Ironhide slid through the door as well, most likely having been commed by Prowl. Prime followed them out, the nobles fussing and threatening the entire way. In the entryway of the base Red Alert sat with Inferno and Ratchet. A light blue mech sat with them, obviously also a noble, who Optimus assumed was Red Alert’s younger sibling. The mech jumped up when he saw his creators and sheepishly joined behind them. Prowl released them in the doorway and gestured for them to continue on. 

 

Then the doors opened. 

 

The noise was near deafening as reporters shouted towards them. Light flashed all around them as cameras snapped. Shouts of Optimus’ name and even Prowl’s filled the common area. 

 

The bonded nobles smirked nastily at him before strutting forward. Their son followed obediently behind further back, though his did look back towards the now closed door where Red Alert was. 

 

“My Prime!” one mech shouted, “What is going on? Why are these noble mecha being escorted out! Is it true there are potentially illegal dealing happening in your upper staff?”

 

Optimus opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by one of the nobles. He didn’t see which one.

 

“Gentlebots, we thank you for coming on such short notice. While we hate to bring you here for such shocking news, we feel it is our duty as citizens of Cybertron to speak the truth about the Autobot upper staff. One of their top mecha is not what you think he is!”

 

All attention was on the noble. Cameras were recording. The Head of Security having even a minor glitch would be a terrible blow to the cause. Optimus was about to watch his entire faction crumble and he was powerless to stop it. What was he supposed to do? Allow Red Alert to be sent away from his family? To be hurt? He went to speak only to find himself being rooted to the spot. 

 

_ No. Be still, Prime. We need this to happen _ , Honeybee whispered in his mind.

 

Prowl stepped forward then, sweeping in front of the nobles, right in front of the microphones and cameras held out.

 

“It’s true,” he said loudly, “I was sparked a slave.”

 

The common area of the base descended into chaos around them.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh! I’m alive! So, here is a very short chapter for you guys. I’m hoping to write the next chapter tomorrow, but I wanted to relieve you guys a bit. I also wanted to do a bit of a thing for you all. This story is about to hit 5000 hits, which absolutely blows my mind. Would you all be interested in giving me some prompts? I’d love to try my hand at oneshots. I’m trying to get my brain prepared for the coming insane amount of homework and I know I’m going to need mental breaks from my MFA stuff. My Tumblr link is here, feel free to throw me some Asks. I’d love the challenge.  
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thejazzmeister03

Prowl fell on his back on his berth, completely exhausted. Two decacycles and there were still reporters stalking him. It was fragging unbearable. He needed to eat something, but he just wanted to recharge. He’d not seen his bed in two orn. Last orn, he’d been working as normal, trying to ignore the looks and comments from almost all of his subordinates.

 

This cycle had been better. Red Alert had finally been cleared for full time work and had had a fit over the state of the security files. Prowl had gotten to experience the pleasure of carting for a new spark. And giving her back to her creator when she started crying. 

 

Despite enjoying being around and getting to know Firefly and Inferno, Prowl was more than ready to go into recharge right now. He flipped from his back to his side, fretting. No matter how tired he was, he was in a very dangerous situation. He didn’t regret helping Red Alert. He never would regret it, but he couldn’t deny that it had really thrown a wrench in his life. 

 

Once he’d made his declaration, Red Alert’s creators had been almost immediately pushed away and forgotten. They’d held a press conference the next day and told everything, but the planet didn’t care. Prowl had definitely made an impact. 

 

Many of the mecha in the Autobot army still clung to the older ways, not completely ready to let go of the lives they’d always known. Optimus refused to back down and would not allow demands of Prowl’s resignation come about. Red Alert assigned Prowl his own bodyguard and fixed his schedule to make it less likely for him to be targeted. Ironhide accompanied Prowl to the recroom for almost every meal when he wasn’t directly seeing to Optimus. They grew even closer.

 

Despite everything, a mecha had spat in Prowl’s faceplates earlier this orn and called him a whore. Most mecha were either completely awkward or near hostile. A slave had no place ordering them about, even with the Prime’s blessing. It made for very uncomfortable department meetings. 

 

Sighing, he scooted closer to the center of his berth, trying to allow his irritation to fade away. 

 

“Frag me,” he moaned to himself, initiating his recharge sequence.

 

“Tempting, but I’m more here for business,” a voice said in front of his nasal ridge.

 

Prowl’s optics snapped online and he stared into a visor entirely too close for comfort. 

 

He screamed and thrust his fist out, enforcers instinct taking over. The mechs helm snapped back and Prowl felt his nasal ridge crunch beneath his digits. The mech yelled out and clutched his face. Prowl fumbled up to his knees, reaching blindly behind him for the blaster he kept in his berthside drawer. 

 

“Wait! WAIT!” the mech shouted, “I’m not here ta hurt ya!”

 

Prowl retrieved his blaster and leveled at the mech. It wasn’t the most dignified position, but he wouldn’t allow himself to be attacked. He’d been through too much to allow it. 

 

“Who are you!?” he demanded.

 

The mech rose, his visor twinkling despite the blood running down his face. He leaned forward, bracing himself on his arm on the side of Prowl’s berth.

 

“Designations Jazz. Nice ta meet you, Beautiful.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Double whammy! Here we begin the next arc of the story and get to hear from some new people. For those of you who guessed who Red Alert’s brother was, congrats! Also, we’re so freaking close to 5000 hits! I love you guys and I’m so glad you’re enjoying this story! I look forward to your comments! Now excuse me while I go eat some Lucky Charms and watch Gravity Falls. ;)

Across the great city of Iacon, away from the base containing the head staff of the Autobot forces, there was the upper district. The nobles had been there for generations, building their small empires and constantly fighting with one another when they weren’t bonding off their heirs to others for prestige.

 

Mirage stood silently in the center of the room, surrounded by servants as they polished his frame to perfection. His creators sat together, watching him be prepared. Once finished, the servants left swiftly and he turned. His sire stood and looked him over critically.

 

“You look lovely, Mirage. You do the family name proud,” he said.

 

Mirage wilted, “Sire, please. Why are you doing this to me?” 

 

He received a sharp pinch to his helm fin. 

 

“Enough Mirage. You act as if we are sending you to an early offlining. We’ve been in talks with the Metalcrest family for over a vorn. This is what we’ve been preparing you for.”

 

But Mirage knew that wasn’t all it. His creators had been keeping secrets from him. Deca cycles back, he’d discovered his family was larger than he’d ever known. Red Alert was not what he had expected when he’d been told he had an older brother. He’d expected someone regal and put together. 

 

He’d been waiting for his creators to finish speaking with the Prime when this little red and white mech had come stumbling into the room. He had a sparkling in his arms and Mirage did love sparklings. He’d approached the mech and requested to see the little one. The mech had been nervous, but allowed him a quick peak.

 

Once Mirage had begun to coo over the sweet sparkling, Red Alert had begun to warm to him. They spoke and Mirage had been blown away by the mechs story. Once he told the new carrier who he was, they exchanged command frequencies. Once their creators had stormed out of the Prime’s office, Red Alert had grabbed him and whispered a warning.

 

“Don’t trust them,” he said, “They’ll throw you away in a spark pulse if it benefits them. They don’t care who gets hurt so long as they get what they want.”

 

He’d tried to speak with his creators that night about what he’d learned of Red Alert, and he’d been ordered to his rooms. Two orns later, they informed him of his betrothal to Surestrike. A mech rumored to be exceptionally cruel to those behind closed doors. Many of his servants were offlined under mysterious circumstances.

 

This orn was his mating day and Mirage would be lying if he said he wasn’t scared. He checked himself over one last time in the mirror. His armor shined and the paint on his face was beautiful. He shivered. 

 

Turning, he followed his sire out of the room into the reception area. The party was already in full swing, and Surestrike swaggered about before he noticed Mirage. Coming up swiftly, he snaked an arm around Mirage’s waist and jerked him into his side.

 

“Nice of you to finally join us, little mech,” Surestrike said, “I don’t care for tardiness, but don’t worry, I’ll train that right out of you.”

 

The mecha around them all laughed, but Mirage huddled in on himself. He didn’t think it had been a joke. The gathered mecha soon moved into families temple and Mirage gave one last ditch effort to convince his creators to stop him from going through with this. His carrier scoffed.

 

“Enough, Mirage. We will not allow you to shame this family by refusing to bond with Surestrike.”

 

Mirage glared, “And If I  _ do _ refuse? What are you going to do, make me disappear like you did with my brother!?”

 

He gasped in pain as his carrier snatched his arm roughly, dragging him closer to whisper harshly in his audial. 

 

“You are not above being punished, Mirage. Red Alert is an embarrassment to this families name. He lives in shame with a bastard sparkling. We will not allow you to do the same. Now get in there and say your vows before Primus.”

 

With a shove his carrier moved him into the temple. Everyone turned then, optics expectant. Mirage moved slowly down the aisle, but he found himself next to Surestrike far too soon for his liking. 

 

The priest walked them through the vows, and Mirage winced as Surestrike held his servo far too tightly. Finally, it was time for Mirage to sign the datapad officiating their bonding. He clutched the stylus, servo trembling. Glancing to his creators, he took in their disapproving gazes. 

 

He allowed his emotions to flow through him and made a decision. He wouldn’t be the pawn his creators wanted him to be. Looking up, he stared into Surestrike’s narrowed optics and opened his mouth, intending to tell him were he could stuff his ‘training’. 

 

Instead, the ceiling exploded.

 

Debris rained down into the temple room, screams echoing in the space. Mirage leapt back when the roof came down, and he stared in horror as Surestrike disappeared beneath rubble. A second explosion ripped open the wall behind him, the blast throwing him forward. He fell on his front, chassis scraping painfully on the broken crystal. 

 

The remainder of the ceiling groaned and Mirage leapt up, throwing himself out of the hole in the wall just as the rest of the building crumbled. Heat bloomed across his back as another explosion sounded and he turned to look behind him. His mouth dropped open as he took in the scene.

 

The city burned. 

 

*****

 

Prowl sat on his couch, holding a still full cube of energon. 

 

“So, you’re telling me that Optimus Prime has appointed you as my personal bodyguard?” he asked.

 

Jazz smiled at him happily.

 

“Yep!” he said, “I’m the best there is and Optimus requested the best.”

 

“Why would he not tell me this?” Prowl asked.

 

“It was also requested that I stay out of sight for the most part. I will be working mainly from the shadows, but I figured I should at least introduce myself to you so if I need to come in to play then you’ll be aware and not fight me.”

 

“Fight you?”

 

“Ya know,” Jazz said, leaning on the back of the couch and running a digit up Prowl’s wing, “in case I’ve got to tackle you or something…”

 

Prowl jerked his wing away, “What are you doing?” he asked.

 

Jazz lifted his servo away quickly, “Nothing.”

 

Prowl stood, turning to the visored mech.

 

“I don’t think this is necessary.”

 

Jazz smiled winningly, “Sorry mech, Prime’s orders.”

 

“I was an enforcer. I’ve handled much worse than those after me. Frag it, I escaped slavery when I was just in my second frame!” Prowl said.

 

Jazz’s smile didn’t falter. Stepping around the couch, he hiked a leg up over Prowl and settled himself in Prowl’s lap.

 

“What are you doing!?” Prowl shouted. He tried to stand, servos coming up to push Jazz away only to be slammed back. His smile was gone.

 

“Now I hate to be so forward with such a pretty mech,” Jazz said, running his digit along Prowl’s jaw, “but I have my orders. I don’t ignore orders, even if those I’m charged with protecting don’t like it, dig?”

 

Prowl’s gaze hardened. 

 

“Have you ever spoken to the Prime in person?” he asked.

 

Jazz paused, confusion flooding his field, “Uh, yeah. Why?” he asked.

 

“Have you ever noticed the scarring on his nasal ridge?” Prowl asked.

 

“Yeah?” Jazz drawled.

 

Jazz jerked back in surprise as Prowl lunged forward, dente snapping far too close to his face. He fell back and landed hard on his aft in front of Prowl. He stared up in amazement.

 

“Then I suggest you never invade my personal space again,  _ Jazz _ ,” Prowl sneered, “Lest I give you a similar scar.”

 

Jazz let out a strangled sound as Prowl rose to stand. 

 

“I’ll allow you to do your work, as it is obvious you won’t be leaving me alone anytime soon, but do not impede me. What I do is important and I cannot afford distractions,” Prowl said firmly. 

 

Jazz opened his mouth to respond, only for a dull boom to shake the room. Prowl stumbled and fell forward onto Jazz, his knee narrowly missing Jazz’s codpiece. Jazz smirked up at him.

 

“Who’s distracting who now?” he asked, thoroughly enjoying Prowl’s blush before the reality of the situation caught up to them both. 

 

The scrambled up and Prowl threw open the blinds to his window. 

 

Seekers flew high, more on the horizon, carpet bombing the city. Prowl watched in horror as buildings crumbled. The noble’s and market districts were already leveled. More explosions shook the building. The seekers were closing in on the base.

 

Prowl and Jazz both looked to one another before pushing away from the window just as the next bombs fell. Jazz tackled him as the window blew inwards, throwing glass over them. Screams echoed down the hall, and Prowl was up pushing Jazz off of him in an instant. The seekers engines roared overhead as they passed. The city finally going still in their wake. 

 

Prowl and Jazz spent the night digging mecha out of the rubble. Most hadn’t made it.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! This weeks chapter is a bit early so I can knock out the last of my homework. Hope y’all enjoy! I look forward to your comments!

Iacon was only the start. The bombing had taken many by surprise, but they had been preparing for this very thing since the start of the war. They had drilled their citizens on evacuation maneuvers for some time. Most of the civilians had survived. The small outpost Prowl had been stationed at for a few decacycles to avoid the press was not so lucky. The seekers had purposely aimed for the barracks and many had been recharging when the attack started.

 

Prowl had been near frantic when he realized Red Alert and his family were beneath the rubble, but they had been found not long ago and he allowed himself to vent a bit more. Despite their less than pleasing introduction, Jazz proved to be competent as he helped Prowl search for survivors. 

 

Prowl had almost allowed himself to believe it was over for the orn when the reports started flooding in. 

 

First and foremost, there was Optimus, demanding a status update on himself, Red Alert and his family, and Ironhide. Optimus himself had been in the temple when the attack happened, one of the most secure buildings on the planet, and he was uncharacteristically angry it seemed. He didn’t seem mad at Prowl though, more worried for his old charge. Prowl had smiled faintly at the screen as it lit up with his leaders stricken face. 

 

“We are all alive, Optimus,” Prowl said, “Ironhide received minor damages, but he is currently being seen by a medic.” 

 

“And little Firefly?” Optimus asked.

 

“With her sire, still recharging, I think. That sparkling can recharge through anything it seems.”

 

Optimus sagged down in his chair with relief.

 

Whatever he had been about to say next was halted as both he and Prowl received a comm call at the same time. The two shared a look before they both answered. The news rooted Prowl to the spot and Optimus’ optics widened in horror. Iacon had been hit first. Then Kalis. Then Gygax. All had sustained damage.

 

But Praxus was gone. 

 

“I’m going,” Prowl said after creating a secure line to Optimus.

 

“Absolutely not. I won’t allow it,” he paused, like he was listening to someone else.

 

“Optimus, there must be survivors. We need someone with a level helm to lead the search and I can be that mech.”

 

“Prowl, it’s too dangerous. We don’t know if the Cons are still out there,” Optimus said. 

 

“Every moment we waste is a moment that a Praxian could be saved. Prime, you raised me in Iacon. I won’t be as likely to break down at the sight of a city I never knew. Besides, I need to prove to the soldiers that I am more than my old station in life. A slave couldn’t do this in their optics. Let me prove them wrong,” Prowl argued.

 

Optimus was silent, debating.

 

Prowl glanced back towards the mecha still digging behind him. Wincing, he whispered into his comm,

 

“I’ll bring Jazz if that would ease your processor…”

 

Optimus sighed heavily, knowing a losing battle when he saw it. After a moment,

 

“Jazz does not leave your side. And if he says you need to leave, you leave. I trust his judgement.”

 

Prowl glared at the ground, feeling like a little second frame youngling again.

 

“Fine,” he spat, “And where did you even find that mech? He’s… strange.”

 

“Special ops recommended him some time ago for an intel mission. Do you remember what we learned from the Rust Sea run?”

 

Prowl gasped, “Impossible! I thought that was an unmanned mission. Strictly drones!”

 

“As did I,” Optimus said, “Until he showed up in my office half rusted away and giving me a datachip. He said he preferred to deliver things personally to avoid hackings.”

 

Prowl turned back to watch Jazz from the opening in the rubble he’d taken over to speak in private to Optimus. Jazz was helping a damaged mech drink coolant, supporting his helm and speaking quietly to him. Prowl stood. 

 

“Very well, sir. We will head to Praxus immediately,” he said.

 

Optimus sighed again into the comm, obviously not happy, “Be safe, little bit. I don’t think I can handle losing you. I love you.”

 

Prowl stopped, surprised, before he whispered back, “I love you too, ‘Rion.”

 

Closing the comm channel, he stopped next to Jazz. Jazz was laughing softly, having been telling the injured mech a joke, who was smiling up at him in return. Prowl cleared his vocalizer and Jazz turned to him.

 

“We have an assignment from Prime. We must leave now,” he said, before turning and walking to the nearest transport. He heard Jazz follow after a moment later.

 

Together they boarded and sat across from one another. Prowl explained what had happened and was impressed when Jazz’s peppy outlook turned more serious. At least the mech could handle it when needed. Once he’d finished briefing the mech, Prowl fell silent and stared out the window. As far as he could remember, he’d never been to Praxus in his life. He wondered what it was like before it was destroyed. A nudge to his knee brought his attention back to Jazz.

 

“You never did get to recharge earlier. You should rest now. Swear I won’t bother ya,” Jazz said.

 

For some reason, Prowl believed him. 

 

Tilting his helm back to rest against the seat of the transport, he initiated recharge. This time, it came quickly. 

 

*****

 

Jazz watched the recharging mech shift restlessly in his seat. At first, he’d wondered if Prowl was faking it, but then he remembered the mech had a background in the Enforcers. Those mecha were trained until they dropped, some of them literally. Prowl was obviously successful with training and had clearly mastered the art of recharging in any position possible. Jazz had once known an enforcer who could recharge standing up by locking his leg plating up. 

 

Snickering, he forced himself to be quiet. He’d been the reason Prowl hadn’t recharged in so long anyway. True, he had been pulling a double shift, but Jazz had chosen that moment to reveal himself and kept him up until the bombing. To be fair, Jazz had seen Prowl’s berthroom after the attack and the berth had been buried under rubble. Prowl might be tired, but he also had probably dodged a bullet. Or twenty tons of rubble…

 

Jazz had been quietly following Prowl for a few orns now, but had decided to make himself known. He really did want the mech to be aware of him should he need to move quickly. Better Prowl realize who he was and follow than have to wrestle the mech  _ and  _ protect him. The fact that he found Prowl highly attractive was beside the point. He knew of Prowl’s reputation. The mech didn’t take  _ anyone  _ to his berth. He didn’t even go to the Prime’s berth, though Jazz doubted Optimus would push anyone if they didn’t want to be there with him. 

 

It was very different from when the last Prime was in charge.

 

Jazz shook his helm and turned to watch the surface of Cybertron zip by beneath their shared transport. Even if he thought Prowl would interface with him, now was not the time. He still wasn’t sure he could accurately picture Praxus just being… gone. It was all too strange. He hadn’t expected to be working so openly with Prowl, but the mech had a thing for putting himself in harm's way to protect or help others. Jazz guessed that’s why the Prime liked him so much, but he also wondered what else was there. There seemed to be a shared history between the two. Something to look into later perhaps…

 

*****

 

Prowl jolted awake as the transport touched down and shook its occupants. Shaking his helm to clear the last for jours of recharge, he stepped out after the ramp lowered, Jazz just behind him.

 

Both stopped and stared, mouths dropped open at the sight of the city. Or what used to be a city.

 

Prowl had read about the great crystal gardens and the sprawling architecture of Praxus. He’d even seen a few pictures. Wherever those things had stood, they were gone now. Rubble stretched as far as the optic could see, much of it still on fire. It was silent. 

 

It shouldn't be silent, Prowl thought, there should be survivors calling for help.

 

But there weren’t.

 

His small rescue team moved to the center of the city, expecting to find some of the inhabitants holed up there.They found them, but they’d all been crushed under the roof of what he was told had been the great Praxus library. They moved to the noble district next, but the buildings were almost exclusively made of glass. Next, they went to the markets, finding so many bodies that even Jazz retched at the stench. The factories. They found the first of the remaining Decepticons. Prowl wasn’t surprised by the ferociousness his team dispatched them with. Praxus was a nightmare.

 

By the fourth orn, eight more rescue teams had joined them. They had found a servofull of survivors at the transport hub, but most had been severely damaged. As they went, they offlined any Decepticons they came across or brought any recoverable bodies to the smelters. The rescue teams began to sort through the few identification chips they had found to give to families. Prowl prepared to leave on the fifth orn. He’d had more than his fill of death.

 

Reporters came and interviewed him and to get footage of the destruction. While there was no way Prowl could say anything he had witnessed was good, he noticed mecha stopped discarding his orders. He no longer felt hateful gazes falling on his wings when his back was turned. No one seemed to care as much about him being a simple slave. Relatives sobbed over him when they approached his camp and he told them they hadn’t found their loved ones. He hated to be touched, but he allowed it. They saw his old enforcer sigils and felt comforted or refused to hear it from any other than himself. He wouldn’t lie, they said, he was a law mech.

 

He sat quietly in his tent the last night, staring into his still full cube of energon. Jazz was walking the patrol route with one of the guards and would come and sit just outside of his tent for the remainder of the night. Prowl had offered to have a berth set up in the tent with him so they mech wouldn’t be left to the elements, but Jazz had refused. He had said he was better aware outside and preferred to guard Prowl from there.

 

Sighing, Prowl set his cube aside and laid down with his back to the opening, allowing the slight breeze to filter in and sooth his doorwings. The sun had been beating down on them the past few orns and his wings were tender and his paint slightly cracked. He’d have to see Ratchet about getting some cooling nanites when they got back. 

 

It was later when he felt it, or rather ‘saw’ it. His wings twitched as they registered a presence behind him. It was slow and creeping as it moved towards him. Prowl turned, expecting Jazz to be behind him having finally given up his ridiculous sentry duty. He rolled over and looked into a pair of pale blue optics that were far too close to the ground to be Jazz. Now he was definitely awake.

 

Jerking upright, Prowl stared at the little grey Praxian youngling who had frozen in place once he’d moved. The little one’s servo was still stretched out towards his forgotten energon cube, obviously his intended target. The youngling followed Prowl’s optics and looked at his servo as well before snatching it back as though he’d been burned. Wings tucked low, he backed away from Prowl towards the entrance of the tent which had fallen closed. Prowl stood, preparing to stop the little one when the tent flap moved as someone outside slapped at it to signal arrival, startling the youngling. Both turned as Jazz stepped into the tent, calling Prowl’s name as he entered before he too noticed the youngling and fell silent in shock.

 

“What the frag?” Jazz said right before the youngling let out a short yell and charged his legs. It was then Prowl noticed that his other servo was clutching a piece of sharp debris and he felt a brief stab of panic for his comrade’s safety.

 

Prowl didn’t need to worry, however, as the mech smoothly snatched the younglings arm and with a quick twist had relieved him of his makeshift weapon. A firm push to his chassis sent the youngling flying back and landing firmly on his aft in front of Prowl once more. The little one’s wings tucked so close to his back that they practically merged with his amour and Prowl winced in sympathy. Doorwings were not supposed to be so flexible. 

 

The little one began to sob by this point, shuffling back on his aft away from Jazz as the agent stepped closer to him. Unfortunately, this had him bumping into Prowl’s legs, who was still seated on his cot. Prowl felt his field, which was so stricken with panic and pain that he himself gasped, and on instinct reached down to touch the little one. The youngling turned and clutched Prowl’s leg desperately, bawling now, and began to beg. 

 

“Please no!” he shouted, “I’m sorry! I was just hungry! I didn’t want to steal! Please don’t offline me!”

 

Prowl stiffened as a memory surfaced of himself, bloody and begging for a stranger's mercy, so hungry and tired he could barely think straight. He wondered if Optimus had felt such pity for him like he did for this youngling.

 

Jazz had stopped as soon as the youngling had cried out, looking to Prowl for instruction. Prowl held out a servo.

 

It’s alright. I’m fine. I’ll deal with him,” he said. 

 

Jazz nodded and stepped back, but didn’t leave. 

 

Prowl ignored the distrust. What did he think he was going to do? Harm the little one? Instead, he reached down and gently lifted the youngling into his arms. He was far too hot and Prowl could feel his little engine struggling to run. The little one struggled for a moment, pedes kicking wildly as he was lifted but stopped once Prowl settled him in his lap. He kept his doorwings down still and hunched down with his optics closed tightly, likely expecting to be struck. Instead, Prowl took the energon cube and held it in front of his face.

 

Once he registered the smell of energon, the youngling looked up warily at Prowl, who nodded in what he hoped was an encouraging manner. It must have been enough because the youngling snatched the cube and was downing it in an instant.

 

Prowl found himself in the interesting predicament of knowing what to do, but doubting he’d do it very well. He’d always enjoyed younglings, but didn’t understand their logic at all. He could handle sparklings, like little Firefly, because her needs were simple. He felt completely out of his depth here. Finally, the youngling in his lap finished the cube and looked back up to Prowl, his face messy with dirt and energon. Prowl took out a cleaning cloth and handed it to him, but the youngling only looked at it before turning back to Prowl.

 

“What is your designation, little one?” Prowl asked, “Where did you come from?”

 

For a moment, the little one clicked his vocalizer and Prowl worried it was damaged, but then  he said in a soft voice said, “Bluestreak.”

 

“Well,” Prowl said, turning to Jazz, “I guess we better get him to the medics.”

 

Scooping up Bluestreak, Prowl moved out of the tent with Jazz in tow, hunting for a medic.

 

*****

 

Bluestreak did not like the medic. 

 

He screamed like a banshee through the entire checkup, arms reaching for Prowl desperately. Finally, they allowed Prowl to hold him in his lap again. Confused, Prowl asked the medic why he was doing this. Bluestreak didn’t know Prowl. Where was this strange need for him coming from?

 

“I’m no psychiatrist,” the medic said, “But I bet it’s got everything to do with those.”

 

He pointed to Prowl’s wings.

 

“You’re probably the first familiar things he’s seen since the attack. I suggest letting him stay with you. At least until you’re in Iacon…” 

 

Prowl nodded, thinking this was a good idea. It made sense to keep the youngling calm. Why upset him more after the tragedies he’d no doubt been through? 

 

Three decacycles later, back in Iacon at the main base, Prowl guided the construction mechs into his quarters to blow out the wall into the next set of quarters, making space for Bluestreak’s new quarters. Bluestreak sat quietly between the twins, who had taken an immediate liking to the smaller youngling, and listened to them talking over his helm. 

 

Prowl still didn’t quite know how he’d been convinced to take the youngling under his direct care. It didn’t matter though. It was happening now.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Look, I managed to update on time this week! Woo! Goals! Anyway, hope you guys enjoy! I greatly look forward to your comments!

Prowl winced and pressed his digits against his helm as Bluestreak let out another piercing cry. Bluestreak had been plagued by horrible night terrors since Prowl had brought him into his quarters to live with him. At first, Prowl had simply helped Bluestreak go back into recharge and dealt with it himself, despite his own recharge cycle being interrupted. This had worked for all of a deca cycle, until he’d fallen into recharge  _ during  _ a meeting with Optimus Prime. Prowl still felt his faceplates at the memory of waking up, joors later and slumped in the chair in front of Prime’s desk. Optimus had left at some point, but had turned the lights off and draped a heating blanket over him. Checking his chrono, Prowl had launched up and made for Ironhide’s quarters, where he had left Bluestreak for the orn. Ironhide informed him that Optimus had taken the youngling some time ago, saying that he had been held up.

 

Prowl found them in the Prime’s suite, Optimus sitting in the receiving room with Bluestreak in his lap, reading a datapad to the youngling. Prowl wilted in the doorframe, not wanting to disturb them. He remembered being small enough to fit on Orion’s lap. How warm and calm he always was. Even if Orion had to punish him, he was always cuddled after and told how much he was loved. 

 

Bluestreak sat quietly, optics obviously heavy but attentive to the story, his servo wrapped around Optimus’ thumb. Prowl snuck in and waited until the story was finished, Bluestreak now fully in recharge. He jumped when Optimus spoke,

 

“I was beginning to worry you weren’t going to wake up, Bitlet.”

 

“I am hardly a bitlet anymore, Prime,” Prowl said, though he couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed at the familiar term. 

 

Prime chuckled, shifting Bluestreak gently to rest against his large chassis. Bluestreak looked tiny in the Prime’s arms. Prowl found it hard to believe he used to be that small.

 

“You know you used to be this small,” Prime said, “Bluestreak seems to like it when I rub the base of his wings. You always hated that.”

 

“It used to hurt,” Prowl said, and Optimus looked up in surprise.

 

“Hurt?”

 

Prowl shrugged and turned to make his way down the hall to his own quarters, Optimus following.

 

“My master used to aim for the wings when he whipped me. The bases still ache from time to time even now, but it hurt when you rubbed them.”

 

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” Optimus asked.

Prowl turned to give him a look, “I was still scared of you. Then you stopped after a while and by the time I was comfortable around you, you’d stopped doing it. I just never thought of it.”

 

Prowl reached out and gently stroked Bluestreak’s wing, which fluttered in his recharge.

 

“He doesn’t seem to have a problem with it, though.”

 

 Together, the adult mecha walked into Prowl’s quarters and Optimus went ahead to lay Bluestreak down in his own berth. Once done, Optimus rejoined his adult charge and took the offered energon. 

 

“So, want to tell me why you fell into recharge mid sentence today?” he asked.

 

Optimus had to stifle a laugh when he saw Prowl’s wings hunch in embarrassment. 

 

“I apologise for earlier, Prime. It will not happen again,” he said.

 

“I didn’t ask for an apology, Prowl,” Optimus said.

 

Optimus had danced this dance with Prowl plenty of times before. When he’d been a youngling, Prowl had had a bad habit of simply apologising any time he thought Orion was mad at him or when he’d done something naughty. In the very beginning of his time as Orion’s charge, Prowl would go as far as simply throwing himself across Orion’s lap and waiting tensely for punishment to begin. Optimus distinctly remembered the four times he’d actually had to physically punish Prowl in his younglinghood and he still felt bad about making his little one cry. 

 

Prowl’s tears always broke his spark, which is part of the reason Bluestreak was here now. He’d heard the reports himself from the frontlines when Prowl and Jazz had been in Praxus. Specifically, one mech had mentioned how it seemed that Prowl didn’t seem affected by the destruction at all. Once they’d returned, Jazz had briefly taken Bluestreak to go see Ratchet and tour the base. Prowl had immediately come to Optimus’ suite to report. 

 

Prowl had stood smartly and delivered his report, and only mentioned Bluestreak at the end. Honeybee’s frantic whispering was his only warning Optimus had before he watched Prowl’s face crumple. Sagging into Optimus’ hold, Prowl had sobbed his spark out for the people of Praxus, his only kin even if he hadn’t really known them. After a few cycles, Prowl had told him about Bluestreak, his venting still ragged. He asked Optimus about how he’d felt when he’d found him and Optimus couldn’t lie when he said he’d never regretted buying Prowl all those vorn ago.

 

Jazz had knocked not long after, though the two mecha had heard Bluestreak long before they pair ever made it to the door. By then, Prowl had turned back into the calm and collected mech everyone save for Optimus knew, perhaps with a bit of static rimming his optics though…

 

Bluestreak had all but launched himself into Prowl’s arms and from there it was decided. 

 

Deca cycles later, Bluestreak still had night terrors, but now Optimus came running at the first sign of his tears. At first, Prowl had been grateful, but now he found himself a bit jealous. It took Prowl joors to calm Bluestreak on a good night, and the help of his therapist on a bad night. His therapist was a kind little mech, orange but unassuming, with a glass chestplate. Prowl liked the mech. 

 

But it took Optimus only a few kliks to calm Bluestreak. Pretty much the moment little Blue found himself swept up in Optimus’ strong arms, he began to calm. Prowl had asked Bluestreak, covertly, what he thought of Optimus and the youngling had given him a strange look. 

 

“He’s nice…” Bluestreak had said hesitantly, “But I like his friend better.”

 

“His friend?” Prowl asked.

 

“The femme. She tells great stories and she makes me feel tired…” 

 

And that was all he would say. Prowl had probed further, but gotten nowhere and eventually given up. Discussing it with the therapist had proven one theory. An imaginary friend. It was the only one Prowl could comprehend, so he just went with it. 

 

*****

 

Ironhide huffed as he sat on the floor having just finished breaking the third fight between the twins that orn. One twin was tucked underneath each of his arms. He gave them each a firm shake when Sideswipe  _ still _ tried to lunge at his brother. 

 

“Enough!” he bellowed, “The next one of ya that tries to throw one more hit is gonna find himself over my knees!”

 

Both twins stilled, finally. Ironhide’s threats of an aft tanning well known to them by now, as well as the fact that he would absolutely follow through with his threat. Ironhide let them go, each of them falling to the floor with a soft ‘thunk’. Both jumped up and came to stand before him as he pulled himself up off of the floor. Ironhide had to fight to keep his scowl on his face as he noticed they both tried to covertly tuck their servos behind them selves to protects their afts. 

 

“Now, what has gotten into the two of you?” he demanded.

 

Sideswipes face screwed up, “Sunny started it!” 

 

Sunstreaker scowled and lowered his helm, glaring at nothing.

 

“Don’t call me ‘Sunny’,” he said. 

 

Ironhide pinched his nasal bridge.

 

“I didn’t ask who started it. I asked why.”

 

Sunstreaker stepped forward, jabbing a digit at his brother, “He was making fun of me! He said I’m seeing ghosts!”

 

Surprise lit Ironhide’s field. Not long after he had taken them in, Ironhide had discovered that Sunstreaker had a serious fear of ghosts. Back when he’d been first getting them settled, Sunstreaker had shared this knowledge with him and Ironhide had been so pleased with the trust given to him. He was confused though, Sideswipe wouldn’t tease his brother over a known fear for no reason. He turned to the red mechling.

 

“Why would you do that, Sideswipe?” he asked, “You know that upsets him.”

 

“It’s true! He keeps saying he sees this ghost! Then when I look, nothing is there!”

 

Ironhide thought for a moment before pointing towards the corner behind Sideswipe.

 

“Get on you,” he said sternly, “I won’t have you two fighting so you know where to go. Fifteen kilks.”

 

Sideswipe groaned before turning and going to stand in the corner, nasal ridge almost touching the wall. It was better than an aft tanning.

 

Once sure his charge would remain where he’d instructed, Ironhide turned to Sunstreaker and bend down on one knee. He placed his digits underneath Sunstreaker’s chin and tilted his helm up until their optics met. One thing he’d noticed since taking the twins in was that they rarely met his optics even when they weren’t in trouble. He’d been working with them to change that.

 

“What’s going on, Bitlet? What have you been seeing?” he asked.

 

“There is something there!” Sunstreaker said. Ironhide had never seen him so insistent before, “There’s a femme following me around, but when I try to get others to see her, she gone!”

 

“What femme?” Ironhide asked.

 

“She’s small and yellow. She’s got white optics. She won’t stop following me, Ironhide!” Sunstreaker lowered his helm in shame and whispered, “I- I’m scared of her, Ironhide…” He was trembling.

 

Ironhide pulled him into his chassis gently, knowing Sunstreaker hated to feel trapped. Sunstreaker allowed it, however, and tucked himself into Ironhide’s embrace. Ironhide held him close, gently stroking his helm. Feeling optics on them, Ironhide turned and caught Sideswipe staring at them. Sighing, Ironhide held out his other arm and beckoned Sideswipe to him. Soon, he found himself with arms filled with twins. And he felt the plating on his back rise. Glancing back, he saw only an empty room and he shook himself.

 

It seemed Sunstreaker’s fears were getting to him as well, if he was feeling optics on himself now too. He’d need to discuss this with the twins therapist. Primus knows they both needed one after everything that had happened in their lives.

 

*****

 

Late in the cycle, or early depending on one’s way of looking at it, Optimus lay on his side in his berth. His recharge was troubled and he clutched at his midsection, moaning long and low. He woke as the ache became worse and glared at the energon he’d left on his side table. This was the third time this cycle he’d had bad energon. 

 

*****

 

The halls of the base were quiet in the off shift. Honeybee wandered the halls aimlessly, white optics tracking around the halls. Watching nothing and everything at the same time. Optimus’ pain echoed throughout her mind, but she couldn’t return just yet. Something was wrong. She hurt everywhere.

 

Someone turned the corner and she allowed herself to slip into the darkness of the corridor. They passed and she remained unnoticed. Very few in this place saw her and even then they usually only caught glimpses unless she was with Optimus. Usually only the young ones. She liked them. They were far more open to seeing her than the adults. 

 

She stopped at the same door she kept finding herself in front of for the past few cycles. She’d made herself go back to Optimus each time she did, but tonight she allowed herself to pass into the room. She passed the youngling’s room and moved into the main berthroom. 

 

Prowl’s doorwings rose and fell with his ventilations, his face slack and calm in his recharge. She reached out and nearly touched his face, but stopped herself. The glow from her optics illuminated the room. Prowl twitched. 

 

She stayed the entire night, watching his face as he recharged. She stayed until the on shift. Until his internal alarm woke him and he groggily rubbed at his faceplates, optics still offline. She leaned forward, her nasal ridge nearly brushing his audial.

 

“Help me,” she whispered.

 

Prowl jerked at the voice, his optics snapping online and sitting up in surprise. The room was empty save for himself. 


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Here’s a short chapter and I’m hoping to add to it a bit more soon, but we’ll see! I’ve got 50 pages to write that are due on the 6th of January, so we’ll see, but I’m hopeful! For those of you who haven’t seen it, I wrote a little one shot describing what went on with little Bluestreak before we see him in this story. I hope you all enjoy! If you guys would like to see other characters stories, feel free to ask me in the comments! I enjoy the challenge very much so if you guys have requests, hit me up! I look forward to your comments! Till next time!

The collar around Mirage’s neck choked him, but the Decepticons didn’t care. His pain was amusing to them. Stumbling, he hissed as his knee collided harshly into the ground. A whip cracked across his back, creating a split in his armor that joined countless others. 

 

“Get your aft back up!” the Decepticon shouted, grabbing him by the arm and thrusting him back into line with the three other prisoners. 

 

Together they trudged on in a line, only stopping at mid orn to allow a short refuel break. Mirage and the two other prisoners did not receive any. The mech in front of Mirage sobbed quietly as they walked on. Mirage suspected he was barely into his final frame.

 

Eventually, they were stopped for the night and Mirage found himself cuffed to the two other mecha. Mirage glanced to the young mech sitting on the ground beside him. He was shivering in the night chill, his faceplates still stained with tears. Mirage leaned in slightly and whispered,

 

“Are you alright?”

 

The young mech sniffled and said, “No. I lost my family…”

 

He yelped as the whip struck him.

 

“No talking!” The guard shouted. Mirage glared at him over the whimpering mech’s helm. It was noticed.

 

“You got a problem, noble?” the Decepticon demanded. He hefted his whip in threat.

 

Mirage lowered his helm. The Decepticon laughed, giving the young mech’s back another stroke with his whip.

 

“I thought so,” he said as he returned to the other guards.

 

Mirage moved to allow the crying mech to lean against him, but was surprised when the third prisoner pulled the young mech away from him. 

 

“Stop trying to ‘help’ us, noble. You’re only making everything worse!” he whispered. He tugged the young mech to lay against him, and though the young mech seemed regretful, he did not defend Mirage. Sighing, Mirage tugged at the cuffs around his wrists. He shivered when the wind gusted around them again and he resigned himself to another night of horrible recharge. 

 

When the towers fell, Mirage had wandered for joors in shock, taking in the sheer amount of destruction. While he couldn’t say he mourned his ruined life as an abusive mechs trophy mate, he had no idea what he was supposed to do now. 

 

Then he ran into the Decepticon patrol. He imagined they were what his intended mate would have been like. 

 

The crunch of gravel nearby had him snapping his optics online. He looked to the guards, but they were all recharging save for the one who was supposed to be the watch. Even he looked like he was practically in recharge. Without moving his helm, he glanced at the other two prisoners, but they were both cuddled together and oblivious. 

 

What had woken him? Perhaps it was just the cold… He offlined his optics, wary of catching the guards attention in any way and receiving more punishment.

 

Another sound, this time closer to him. He peeked his optics back open and slowly tilted his helm to where he had pinpointed the sound. He froze in shock when he locked optics with another mech. 

 

The strange mech slowly raised a single digit to his lip plates. Creeping away from him and towards the guards, Mirage could only watch in silent horror as the mech slid a dagger out of his subspace.

 

*****

 

Jazz leaned back in his chair, pedes up on his desk, either oblivious or uncaring of Prowl’s disapproving gaze. 

 

“Lemme get this straight,” Jazz said, “You want me to… watch you recharge?”

 

Prowl felt his jaw clench in frustration.

 

“Is that not what I said?” he asked.

 

Jazz huffed a laugh. 

 

“Yeah… I’m gonna need a bit more explanation than that if you want me to do that mech. I’m yer bodyguard, not yer sparkling sitter. If you want that, maybe go talk ya Optimus. I hear you two have an interesting history.”

 

Prowl sighed. He’d known it was a stretch to just ask Jazz to do this, but having to say it out loud made him feel crazy. But he needed Jazz. For Bluestreak’s protection if anything else.

 

“I think someone is stalking me,” he said quietly.

 

That got Jazz’s attention. He removed his pedes from his desk and sat up, leaning towards Prowl.

 

“Say again,” he said, deadly serious now.

 

“Every night when I go into recharge, I feel as though I am being watched. In the starting cycle, right before I wake completely, I hear a voice. At first I thought it stress from working and caring for Bluestreak, but it got so bad that I set up a monitor to pick up anything aside from me. Last night… it picked something up…”

 

“What?” 

 

“I don’t know. All I know is that there was another presence in my quarters last night.”

 

Jazz was silent for a moment before he met Prowl’s optics.

 

“I’ll be there tonight. I’ll keep out of sight and we’ll see if we can’t find out whoever it is that’s creepin’ on ya.”

 

Prowl sighed in relief.

 

“Thank you, Jazz. I appreciate you help in this matter. And I would also appreciate your… discretion in this.”

 

“Don’t wanna sound insane? Or like you’re scared of the boogie mech?”

 

“...Precisely.”

 

“Fair enough…”


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! New chapter! So, the next chapter won’t be up until I finish my January homework, but keep an eye out for any side stories! No promises, but I’m trying to work on those too. Also, if anyone didn’t see, little Bluestreak got his side story which I’ve added as a part of those series, so enjoy. To the others that have already read and commented, thank you! I look forward to your reactions to this chapter! Till next time!

Prowl jolted awake again, exhaustion pulling at his spark. He’d heard it again. The voice. He sat up as Jazz dropped down from his vent in the ceiling and looked to him. 

 

“Did you hear it?” he asked.

 

Jazz lifted the equipment that was specifically designed to pick up even the smallest of sounds and pinpoint where it was coming from. 

 

“Yup.”

 

“Were you able to find where it came from?”

 

“Nope.” 

 

Prowl sighed and flopped back down onto his back, rubbing tiredly at his face.

 

“How?!” he cried, “How are we not able to find it? I hear it so clearly!”

 

Jazz at least seemed sympathetic.

 

“I know, mech. I believe you and have the proof to back it up. I just don’t know where it’s coming from. Or where it’s going for that matter… What did it say tonight?”

 

“The same thing it always has. ‘Help me’. How am I supposed to help them if I have no idea who they are?!?”

 

Jazz could only shrug. He stood there watching as Prowl slid out of his berth and stretched, his doorwings expanding as far as they would go. He trailed his optics over the beautiful frame until he met Prowl’s optics, narrowed as he looked over his shoulder.

 

“You can go now, Jazz,” Prowl deadpanned.

 

Jazz jumped before he turned to the door to leave.

 

“Right. Sorry!”

 

*****

 

Mirage winced as the pliers came far too close to his main lines, snapping the thick metal of the collar. 

 

“Thank you,” he said quietly to the strange mech. He kept his optics from lingering on the mech’s blood spattered frame. 

 

“No problem!” The mech said cheerily, “Just glad I could do something before it was too late.”

 

“Yes…” Mirage said.

 

The other two prisoners were gone, having long since run away as soon as they were freed. Mirage lingered, though he was wary of doing so with a stranger. 

 

“What’s your designation?” he asked.

 

The mech stood, wiping his servos on a cloth pulled from his subspace.

 

“We need to move. Don’t know if they got a distress signal out before I offed them, but I’d rather not wait to find out.”

 

He started to walk away before turning back just long enough to to say over his shoulder,

 

“And my designation is Hound. Nice to meet ya!”

 

Mirage found himself following, not entirely certain why.

 

*****

 

Optimus sat quietly in his mindscape, watching Honeybee pace restlessly. 

 

“Is something wrong, Honeybee?” he asked.

 

He heard something crack in the distance, echoing in his audials though he doubted he’d ever see what was broken. Honeybee stopped pacing so suddenly that Optimus jumped. She turned to him with a look he’d never see her wear before. She look scared.

 

“Something is very wrong, Optimus. I feel…bad. Like I’m coming unraveled.”

 

His mindscape shook, like there was an earthquake. Suddenly, Optimus was much more concerned. He reached up to brush his digits against her arm.

 

“Honeybee? Teacher? Has this happened before?”

 

“No.” 

 

“Do you have an idea of what’s happening to you?”

 

“No.”

 

“Do you have an idea of what’s causing it?”

 

“I don’t fragging  _ know _ , Optimus! All I know is that I hurt! That I keep finding myself next to your charge without really knowing how I got there! I’m not trying to project myself away from you, but I’m not able to stop!”

 

Optimus glanced away at the mention of her projecting. It hurt him as well when she did it. He’d brought it up some time ago and knew she couldn’t stop. He hadn’t meant to make her feel bad again… 

 

Her servos cupped his face gently, guiding him to look into her optics. Pressing a gentle kiss to his lips she held his helm tightly against her chassis, like she’d lose him if she didn’t hold on with all her might. 

 

Eventually he had to return to reality. Easing back into his own mind, he tried his hardest to ignore the near constant pain in his spark as he laid down on his berth. He prepared himself for another long night without recharge.

 

*****

 

Honeybee wandered the halls again, except this time it felt different. As she had every night since this strange pattern had began, she found herself in front of the door to Prowl’s room. She clenched her fists and turned away, forcing herself to return to Optimus’ room. Each whisper quiet step she took was more and more painful. 

 

Eventually, she stood at the end of her host’s berth. His ventilations were ragged and he seemed to be in just as much pain. Stepping forward, she placed her servo over his chassis, right where the Matrix lay within. 

 

She initiated the merging sequence. 

 

Opening her optics, she expected to find the mindscape Optimus had created for her. Instead, she still looked down at his physical form. 

 

She tried again.

 

Still she couldn’t merge. 

 

Not knowing what else to do, she climbed up over him and lay across his chassis. The closeness to the Matrix soothed her slightly and Optimus’ ventilations evened. She closed her optics and simply rested. Perhaps if she just focused for a while she’d merge properly. 

 

*****

 

Prowl came out of recharge smiling. For the first time in a long time, he’d not been woken by the strange disembodied voice. Jazz confirmed it a few clicks later. After thanking the spy, Prowl went to wake Bluestreak. Perhaps some heated sweet energon for their morning meal. He was feeling celebratory…

 

*****

 

Optimus woke slowly, his optics cracking open and squinting into the morning light streaming through his half opened window slats. He shifted and was surprised to feel a weight against him. He hadn’t taken a berth partner since before he’d become Prime. Glancing down, his optics widened and he forced himself to remain still. 

 

The yellow minibar laying on top of him was waking as well, shifting and bringing up a servo to rub at her face. Suddenly, she rolled and toppled off of him onto the berth padding he was laid on. She helped in surprise and looked around wildly.

 

Optimus, still too shocked to speak, finally got a good look at her. While different in many minute ways, her facial structure was one he’d never be able to forget in a million vorn. 

 

“H-Honeybee?” he asked quietly.

 

The femme looked up into his optics, shining a bright white before dimming and shifting to a deep blue. She seemed confused for a moment before horror morphed onto her face. One trembling servo reached up and poked his face before being snatched back as though burned. Optimus sat up completely. 

 

She shouldn’t be able to touch him. Had never been able to before. 

 

It was then he realized she was completely naked, her bare protoform holding nothing but her base colors and her spark chamber shamelessly wide open. Honeybee didn’t seem to notice or care about her indecency, however. Instead, she stared down at her servos like she’d never seen anything like them. Finally, she looked back into his optics.

 

“Of frag me, Optimus,” she said, “this is very, very bad.”


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIVE!!!!! I’m sorry this took so long to get to you guys. College was insanely busy and by the time I finished six looooonnnnngggg days of pretty much nothing but writing ... yeah. I was all written out. But I’m back and here’s the next chapter! Thank you to everyone who has been commenting and I hope you enjoy this new bit. Hopefully we’ll be getting back on a more or less normal schedule again! We’ll see! Enjoy!

Optimus was not panicking. He wasn’t. He was pacing the length of his chambers because he’d been lacking physical exercise lately and it helped him to think better. That wasn’t panic. If anything, it was healthy.

 

“Optimus!” Honeybee shouted suddenly.

 

Jerking hard in surprise, his servo flew out and smacked into a vase, sending it to the ground with a crash. 

 

“What!?” he shouted back, “There’s no need to shout, Honeybee! I’m right here!”

 

She gave him the look she always did when he was being particularly obtuse. 

 

“I called you three times already. Your dumb aft is the one rubbing the paint clean off your own servos.”

 

“What?” he asked.

 

Honeybee pointed and he glanced down to see she was correct. His palms were almost completely bare of paint. He made himself lower them to his sides before he started pacing again. He was not panicking. 

 

He turned to Honeybee, who thankfully had closed her chassis so he wasn’t looking at her spark any longer, but was still naked everywhere else. 

 

“What are we going to do!?” he screeched. His own voice surprised him and he cleared his vocalizer in an attempt to return it to it’s normal much deeper setting. Honeybee shrugged helplessly.

 

“I don’t know,” was all she said. She’d said that quite a bit this morning.

 

“What do you mean you don’t know? How can you not know!? You’ve known pretty much everything before now!”

 

Honeybee’s face scrunched up in anger. She snatched a pillow from behind herself and tossed it with surprising accuracy. It hit Optimus square in the face, hard enough to surprise him and knock him back a step. 

 

“Enough, Optimus! I didn’t choose you just to watch you fall apart at the first true inconvenience you come across! I’m still here to help you, just… not in your helm anymore. So sit your aft down and stop with your stressin’! It’s annoying!”

 

Optimus lowered himself down onto his knees in front of the berth in his normal meditation stance, ashamed of himself. She was right of course. She was right there. But still…

 

“So you really have no idea what caused this?” he asked.

 

Honeybee slumped down and didn't answer him, optics closed in concentration herself. Eventually, she onlined her optics again and looked down at him.

 

“I can’t feel my connection to Primus,” she said with a waver in her voice. Optimus couldn’t remember ever hearing her sound scared before. “The bond hasn’t been severed, but… thinned in a way. When I reach out it’s like I can brush my digit tips against him, but nothing else.”

 

Optimus leaned forward a bit, “What was it like before?” She’d never been very open with him before about her connection to Primus or how her Sight worked. 

 

“Before it was like being submerged in Him. I can’t remember a time being so far from him, though there must have been,” she lifted her servos to show him, “otherwise I doubt I’d have this form. I would have thought I would have looked like I did in your mindscape if I were to enter the mortal plane.”

 

Optimus’ processor stalled for a moment. 

 

“Wait,” he said, “you mean there was a time when you weren’t Primus’ seer?”

 

Honeybee shrugged again, “Well, yeah. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been Primus’ servant since the first Prime, either choosing for Him or leading His chosen, but before that there were tribes and societies of Cybertronians. The need of a prime didn’t come until later. I suppose I was alive sometime then.”

 

“You suppose?”

 

She shot him a glare, and Optimus forced himself to keep a straight face. Her quick temper had come into the mortal plane with her it seemed and he didn’t need a slap to the back of his helm this early in the morning.

 

“I don’t know, Optimus! If I had a life before Primus took me I don’t remember it. I think we should be a little more focused on the here and now than on my past, no?”

 

Well, she had him there. 

 

“Well, we’ll need to get you some armor first. I don’t think it would be a good look to have a naked femme leaving my quarters. The press would have a field orn.”

 

Honeybee stood and moved towards the washracks, flapping her servo. 

 

“That’s an easy fix. Just call in Ironhide and get him to have a medic come up. Perhaps Ratchet. I like that medic. They should both be on shift today.”

 

Optimus stilled from where he’d been rising before rushing after her. 

 

“Perhaps someone other than Ironhide…” he suggested as nonchalantly as possible, “Prowl might understand better. I mean, I raised Prowl. He’d know I wasn’t lying about who you are.”

 

Honeybee had turned on the solvent and was holding her servo beneath the flow. She seemed mesmerized by the sensation.

 

“Why not Ironhide? He’s right outside the door,” she stepped under the spray and visibly shivered, “Primus that feels strange.”

 

Optimus grasped at mental straws desperately. 

 

“Well, I mean… He’ll have been standing guard all night and I’m sure once he’s made aware of there being a situation he’ll not want to leave until it’s resolved and then he won’t recharge. Prowl will-”

 

“You just don’t want him to think you’ve been facing with others while you’ve been facing  _ him _ ,” Honeybee said. 

 

Optimus felt his mouth drop in shock. Honeybee turned, giving him a sly look before turning back and grabbing his bottle of soap. Optimus tried to deny,  it each time the refusal died in his throat. Finally, he asked,

 

“How did you know?”

 

Honeybee scoffed, turning back to look at him as she rubbed the soap down her sides.

 

“I used to be in your helm, idiot. Just because I never mentioned it didn’t mean I didn’t know. I wanted to give you some privacy.”

 

“But… you’ve never had a problem with butting into my processor before! Why keep this quiet?”

 

Honeybee rolled her optics, “Remember that whole ‘we share a connection’ thing? I feel your pain but I also feel your pleasure. Would retreat when you were with him because I didn’t want to be getting all hot and bothered without being able to do anything about it.”

 

“What?” Optimus asked, confused, “You you can feel my pain but you can’t overload?”

 

“Not without you,” she said in a matter of fact way before glancing down sadly, “I never wanted to push you into something you didn’t want so I just… never brought it up.”

 

The two stood quietly together for a moment, Honeybee still under the spray and Optimus standing just outside of the stall. Suddenly, Honeybee clapped her servos together twice and looked into Optimus’ optics.

 

“Alright! We need to do something and it’s not of much use to stand around talking. Ironhide won’t be happy, but once we explain I’m confident he will understand. Prowl too. Call them both in. I think it’s about time I come clean and tell Prowl I’ve been visiting him each night,” she turned and shut off the spray, “Primus that’s better! I don’t even know how I felt dirty when I’ve only been here for a night so far.”

 

Optimus nodded along reluctantly, still wary of Ironhide’s reaction before stopping.

 

“Wait,” he said, “You’ve been visiting Prowl?!”

 

*****

 

Prowl picked up the pace as he approached Optimus’ door and heard shouting inside. An early morning summons from Optimus had not been how he’d wanted to start his morning, but Jazz had stayed behind to help with Bluestreak. Confident little Blue would be safe with the strange, but decent, mech he’d allowed it. 

 

Bypassing the lock, he burst into the room, servo resting on his blaster in habit. His mouth dropped. A completely armorless femme sat quietly on the berth, servos resting in her lap looking for all the world to be enjoying a wonderful show. In front of her, Optimus stood with his servos raised in front of his chassis. He honestly looked fearful. He had plenty of reason as well. Ironhide was shouting right up in his old mentor’s face, finger jabbed almost into his nasal ridge it was so close. 

 

“So, what!? You bring me to your berth and then have the nerve to call me in to see you laying around with some random femme!?” he shouted.

 

Optimus was leaning away from Ironhide and Prowl felt his optic ridges rise. He didn’t know Optimus’ back strut was so flexible. 

 

“Ironhide. I wasn’t ‘laying around’ with-” Optimus tried.

 

“An’ who even is she!? Does she even have clearance to be on base!? You went into your quarters alone last night. I know! Because I was the dumbfrag standing guard! So how’d she get in!?

 

Optimus looked to the femme. Prowl watched the femme look back to Optimus with an expectant smile. He broke his silence before Ironhide could wrap his servos around her throat like he wanted to if his to if his twitching servos were any indication.

 

“What is going on here?” he asked.

 

Optimus turned to him with a relieved look on his face. Ironhide jumped as though he’d been caught committing a crime, which technically he had been. For a commoner to interface with the Prime was a crime. Luckily for Ironhide, Prowl didn’t really believe in or care for the old functionalist laws. They were fighting a war over it at the moment, in fact. He’d rather have not known in the first place who Optimus clanked with, but at least he knew Ironhide was trustworthy. This strange femme though…

 

“And who is this femme? Why is she… bare?”

 

Before either mech could answer, the femme jumped down from her perch on the edge of the berth. Walking towards him confidently, she said,

 

“Nice ta meetcha officially, Prowl! I’m Honeybee!”

 

She thrust her servo out so that they could clasp wrists. Prowl didn’t move to take it.

 

“Who are you?” he said again. 

 

The femme faltered, her grin slowly slipping from her face. Finally, she let her servo fall to her side and glanced away. 

 

“Well,” she started awkwardly, “You’ve met me before actually, but we’ve never been officially introduced.”

 

“You have?” Ironhide asked, moving toward them. Prowl didn’t miss the way her clutched at her weapon, though it hadn’t been drawn. Whoever this femme was, Prowl felt secure in the knowledge that even if she turned out to be hostile, he and Optimus would remain safe. Ironhide was the head guard for a reason. 

 

The femme did seem oddly familiar, however, so he decided he would allow her to speak before he had Ironhide haul her off to the brig for further questioning. The femme turned to Ironhide.

 

“Met you too, actually. Met both of you in the same place.”

 

“Which would be?” Prowl asked. 

 

“Beneath the main arena under Kaon,” she answered.

 

“Con!” Ironhide shouted, immediately reaching out to snatch her up, but the femme slipped away from his grasping digits in a seconds time. She grabbed a pillow and tossed it up and over Prowl. He ducked and heard it flop harmlessly to the floor directly behind him. Optimus moved forward to stop them, shouting for Ironhide to stand down, that it was all a mistake. Prowl simply stared at her face, however, making the connections that Ironhide wasn’t. 

 

She had changed some since then, but now that he looked the resemblance was obvious. The slant of her optic glass. The antenna that looked as though they were actually sharpened. Her strange little ‘I know more than you’ smile that she seemed to constantly wear.

 

Her voice. 

 

“YOU!” he screamed, startling everyone in the room.

 

It was  _ her _ . The one who’d confronted his master and saved him. The one who’d informed him that he’d been close to offlining. He’d thought she was a dream. Hearing her voice so clearly now, he understood.

 

She was the one who’d been whispering for help in his audio every morning for cycles on end. And here she stood, right in front of him. 

 

Before he could shout anymore, a sharp pain assaulted him behind his right optic. He clutched at his helm and felt the world tip. Dully, he realized he’d fallen on the pillow she’d thrown over him. Darkness crept up fast and he was forced to let the processor crash take him. He thought he heard Optimus calling for him, but by then, he was too far away.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh. So, I’m still alive over here people! I’m sorry it took me so long to update. Life has been INSANE. But if y’all ever want to chat, I’m over on Tumblr and on Discord. Feel free to hit me up. I love talking to people! Anyhoo! Here is the newest chapter! I hope you all enjoy and as always I look forward to your comments! Now if you'll excuse me, I’m gonna go watch Doctor Sleep. Toodles!

Ironhide suspected he was coming down with a small virus and had almost called in someone else to cover his guard shift for the night. But Optimus was in for the night and had seemed not himself either. So he stayed and stood guard over the Prime’s door. The entire night he’d stood there, exhaustion tugging at him and his helm pounding, his tanks twisting with the urge to purge. He’d just downed some medgrade and continued on. Once he’d begun to sway where he stood, he’d called for a chair and settled there, pulling out some file work he’d been putting off. Nothing out of the ordinary the entire night. 

 

Checking his chronometer, he’d been relieved to see that he had only a few klicks left of his shift. His relief would come soon and he could go get the recharge he desperately needed. 

 

Then, Optimus had called him into his quarters. 

 

Groaning as he rose, he had obeyed. How could he not? One didn’t just ignore a summons from Optimus, though he suspected it was for official business. Optimus had sounded nervous. His helm was pounding and he didn’t want to give Optimus whatever this virus was. He slid into the Prime’s suite, half expecting to see Optimus with his valve panels open and laid out in some sort of suggestive pose. He doubted he would have been able to resist no matter how ill he felt had he walked into  _ that _ . 

 

He felt his faceplates heat. Their relationship was still new to both of them, but by Primus the ‘facing was amazing. It had almost been an accident, but Ironhide had never felt attraction to another mech as strongly as he did with Optimus. When he lay with Optimus at night, things just felt…  _ right _ . Optimus’ valve clenching around his spike in overload felt  _ right _ too, but he hoped he could convince Optimus to hold off until he was better. He didn’t think Optimus would push him, but at times Ironhide still found it hard to say no to the mech. After all, no one said no to the Prime. At least that had been the way before. 

 

Technically, his being so familiar with Optimus was grounds for execution. At the least, a public flogging and immediate removal from his position. He’d be ruined if what he and Optimus were up to on his nights off got out. But Optimus was careful. And gentle. And kind. Ironhide smiled as he slipped into Optimus’ berthroom, looking for the large red and blue mech. 

 

He came up short at the sight of someone else present in the room. A small yellow femme that looked familiar but he couldn’t place her. She was naked. She turned as he entered the room and a movement to the side caught Ironhide’s attention. Optimus was standing between the berth and the wash racks, looking guilty. The femme smiled. Rage flooded Ironhide’s lines. 

 

*****

 

Ironhide’s tanks twisted horribly as he tried to recharge. After the drama with Prowl’s crash, things had moved quickly. Ratchet had been called of course. The femme had been removed from Optimus’ quarters as well, smuggled out to keep a scandle from happening. Ratchet had been willing to take her to be fitted with armor, but had threatened pretty much everyone present with a wrench to the helm if an explanation didn’t come once he had Prowl stable. 

 

Ironhide had nearly left as well, fully fed up with the morning. It had taken Optimus literally clutching his servo and begging him to stay so he could explain for him to pause. Optimus had never seemed so desperate in all the time he’d known the mech. Sure they’d played the begging game in berth but Optimus hadn’t ever seems so, out of sorts. He sounded scared. Ironhide had never seen Optimus scared before. He’d always been there to protect the Prime. Fear wasn’t something Ironhide ever wanted to see on Optimus’ face. 

 

So he’d stayed and allowed Optimus to explain. At first, he’d been angry. The thought of some random imaginary femme living in Optimus’ helm telling him what to do seemed like something a youngling would come up with. But as Optimus told him about Honeybee and her powers as a seer, he began to listen more. Optimus was serious. He really believed this. 

 

“You’re serious,” he said in shock. Optimus nodded solemnly. Ironhide slumped down in the chair he’d been directed to earlier. His helm ached so badly. 

 

“She sees the future?” he asked. This time, Optimus shrugged with uncertainty.

 

“She’s not really explained it even to  _ me _ . She’s honestly rather secretive about her personal life. Though I can say that she’s never been wrong in her advice. Ever,” Optimus said.

 

Ironhide rubbed at his audials. Finally, he stood, ignoring the worried look Optimus gave him. He hated to make the other mech upset, but this was too much. 

 

“Optimus,” he said, “I think I have a virus. I’m gonna go lay down and recharge for a bit.”

 

It was the only thing that he could think to say and when he thought back on it he cringed in embarrassment. So much for any sort of tact. Optimus’ look of worry turned to confusion before he became even more flustered. 

 

“Of course!” he said, leading Ironhide to the door, “I thought you seemed under the weather. And I’m sure I’ve made it worse by keeping you up. I’ll make sure Ratchet clears you from duty until you feel better. Perhaps you’ll feel well enough to come by for evening energon?” he asked hopefully.

 

Ironhide sighed. 

 

“I think I need a break, Oppy. This is all so much. I’ll… I’ll contact you soon and we’ll talk,” and with that he walked out of Optimus’ suite towards his own. He forced himself not to look back and see Optimus’ grief stricken face.

 

*****

 

Recharge didn’t come for some time and he tossed and turned, emotions a mess. Upsetting Optimus had not been his intention, but it was so much to take in. A seer? In his helm? And the more Ironhide thought on it, the more he was certain he  _ had _ seen the femme before. She had been there underneath Kaon. She had been the reason he’d stopped and that had ultimately saved his spark. He wasn’t sure he liked owing his life to the stranger. Optimus seemed to trust her, but it was his job not to trust people. He was the one who protected the Prime. He couldn’t afford to trust strangers. 

 

He really wanted to be angry with Optimus. Optimus hadn’t told him anything of this strange femme in his helm. They’d often talked after passion filled nights and never once had Honeybee come up. But as soon as Ironhide thought of Optimus and tried to work himself up to be appropriately angry, he imagined the stricken expression on his lovers face as he’d walked away this morning. He almost got up and went back to apologize, but stopped himself each time. He’d said he’d needed a bit of time and that was true. Primus, he felt horrible. 

 

Suddenly, he heard two small sets of pedes pounding down the hallway towards his room and that was the only warning he had before the twins had launched themselves onto his berth, managing to land full on his aching tank. The air from his vents whooshed out of him and he gave a glare up to the two smiling faces.

 

“Why’re you laying around, Hide?! You said you were gonna take us to the shooting range this orn!” Sideswipe all but shouted.

 

Ironhide groaned. They were right of course.

 

“Oh, youngin’s. I’m sorry. I’m just not feeling myself this orn. I think I’ve got a virus. I promise I’ll take ya as soon as I’m well again.”

 

He tried to not feel too terrible at their falling faces. However, they didn’t try to wheedle him like he expected them to. Instead, they snuggled in on either side of him and began soaking up his frame heat. Ironhide smiled and held them close. For quite a while, the twins had been skittish around him. True, they still claimed they ‘owned’ him, but they had given over to his authority almost completely behind closed doors. Ironhide suspected that the fact he had no problem tanning their afts if they acted up played a large part in it, but they also feared him returning them to the pits. All the reassurances in the world didn’t take that fear from them and he was constantly comforting them. 

 

But he didn’t mind. He loved holding them close.

 

He allowed the peace of the moment to settle around them, holding his younglings close and sighing in content. He was almost in recharge when a loud clang sounded from his ceiling. The twins, having already fallen to recharge, both jerked awake. Sunstreaker yelled in fear. 

 

The clang happened again, accompanied with the vent cover in his ceiling crashing to the floor. He threw himself out of his berth and took his blaster from his side table, aiming it to the frame dropping down from the vent opening. His mouth dropped open at the sight of the small yellow femme. Honeybee. 

 

“What tha  _ frag  _ are ya doing?!” he shouted, not lowering his weapon. 

 

She turned to him then, her face a mask of panic. 

 

“No time!” she said, snatching up Sideswipe from the berth much to Sunstreaker’s displeasure.

 

Ironhide cocked the blaster “Put him down!”

 

Honeybee grabbed Sunstreaker next, leaving her with two dangling younglings tucked underneath her arm. 

 

“There’s  _ no time _ !” she shouted.

 

Suddenly the door to Ironhide’s front room was banged on. 

 

“Open up! Enforcers!” someone shouted from outside.

 

Sideswipe was thrust into his arms and Honeybee gripped his wrist, her servo so hot it almost burned him. This time, he shut up and let her drag him along. The last thing he heard before he joined Honeybee in jumping from his berthroom window was his front door being broken in.


End file.
